


it's a matter of fact

by saltyaf



Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Falling In Love, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, bath bombs also make an appearance, haru's love for mascots strikes again, obligatory aquarium date, puppies and kittens and coffee oh my, sourin and reigisa are side pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-13 21:38:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 42,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7138304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltyaf/pseuds/saltyaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tired of the constant attention that it recieves, Haruka decides to get his soulmate mark covered up. Tasked with the job, Makoto decides to keep the matching mark on his wrist a secret. Easy enough, right?</p><p>Until it's not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. June - August

**Author's Note:**

> I’m really nervous to post this but I’m also excited because I have been working on this for a couple months and am finally ready to share it with the world. However, while I did design it to be a one-shot, it was starting to get pretty long so I decided to break it up into three pieces. I’ll try to post the other parts as soon as possible but I may be pretty busy in the coming weeks so we will just see how it all works out.
> 
> A couple things before we get started!
> 
> I got the idea for this fic from a masterpost of soulmate!AUs that I found on [silentpeaches](http://silentpeaches.tumblr.com) tumblr page. The post is really quite long; [this](https://67.media.tumblr.com/9c4f1a23b39f5ed1a614ae54bfad7841/tumblr_o8fh1kAGgr1s1rgmjo1_540.png) is the specific prompt that I based the story on. I tweaked it around a little bit but the base idea is the same.
> 
> I also just want to put it out there that I have not really done any writing in about 6 years or so and besides that, this is my first fanfiction ever. So please be gentle! I’d appreciate comments or concerns or constructive criticism very much and would love to hear what you have to say but please, please be gentle.
> 
> Finally, this is completely unbeta’d. Any and all mistakes are mine. I did try to catch them but if you see anything, please do not hesitate to let me know!

“I want a tattoo.”

There is a beat of silence as Rin tries to process this information, blinking once before settling his gaze on Haruka. With the way that his eyebrows are slightly furrowed, bottom lip caught between his teeth, it’s obvious that the comment has caught him off guard. He glances briefly at Sousuke next to him, as if making sure that he is there and can be used as backup if needed, before clearing his throat. 

“Okay.”

A single word, but one laced with confusion. Haruka can’t exactly blame him; he had come over to Rin and Sousuke’s apartment to try and get some studying done. The complete and utter silence of his own apartment left him uneasy, but the university library was far too loud to actually get any work done. His friends’ apartment was a happy medium, though: quiet enough that he finds it easy to study, with the silence occasionally broken by the sounds of whatever video game they were playing at the time.

But two chapters into his assigned reading on the life cycles of cephalopods, Haruka’s concentration is broken as Rin slides off of the couch, his landing punctuated by a loud grunt as he randomly mashes buttons. His tank top falls down one shoulder as he makes the sudden movement, edge of the golden starburst etched into his right pectoral now exposed. It’s just a tiny bit, small enough that it is barely noticeable…if not for the stream of sunlight coming in through the open curtains. It happens pretty quickly after that. Rin’s character overbalances, falling off of the stage and to his death. Sousuke lets out a deep chuckle as he is declared  _winner,_ Rin huffs out a sigh and – there, there’s the problem. The sunlight catches on the rise and fall of Rin’s chest, snagging on the mark and shining directly into Haruka’s eyes. All at once, he finds that he can no longer focus on the mating habits of squid.

Deciding to put Rin out of his misery, Haruka silently raises his left hand and taps two fingers against the side of his neck, right where he knows his own mark is resting; a mid sized outline of an anchor. It sits fairly low down, in the juncture where neck meets shoulder, and he hates it. There are a lot of things that Haruka hates (mess, noise, and being treated to a front row seat at one of Sousuke and Rin’s spontaneous make-out sessions, to name a few) and his soulmate mark is pretty high up on the list. Short of wearing turtlenecks (too much trouble to get out of) or packing it with gauze (too much trouble, period), there was nothing that he could do to hide it.  

Rin’s eyes widen in realization and…panic? He turns to Sousuke, mouth open to say something, but the other man just calmly rests a hand on his boyfriend’s knee. “You want to cover up your mark?” His tone is far more gentle than Haruka has ever heard come from him, but the soothing lilt does nothing to hide the apprehension behind his words. What Haruka wants to do is not unheard of, but it is fairly rare. The mark made it easier to find the person you were destined to be with, the one person who would shower you with love, no matter what. It was a bit of a waiting game but most people did not mind in the least, the majority of society content to float through life until they found their soulmate and the mark morphed, changed, filled with gold and was finally deemed complete.

But Haruka did not want that. He didn’t want a constant reminder that he was missing something staring at him every time he looked in the mirror. Every time that he met someone new and the first thing that they did was find the mark on his neck, the unmistakable look of pity passing through their eyes when they saw that it had yet to be filled in. Or even worse, the disappointment that they were unable to hide when they found that it did not match theirs. He wanted none of it; he never had and he never will. The mark was nothing more than an inconvenience.

“Yes,” he answers simply, letting his arm drop and resting it across his open textbook, fingers idly picking at the pages. “Can you do it for me?”

“Wait a second,” Rin demands. He holds his hands up as if to stop time, fixing Haruka with a strange look. “Are you sure you want to do this? And you want this guy to do it for you? Seriously?” 

Sousuke rolls his eyes, not in the least bit ruffled at his boyfriend’s lack of faith in him. “I’m actually good at my job, Rin.”

“That’s not what I meant.” He runs one hand through his hair but the strands fall back into place effortlessly, as if he had done nothing at all. He blows his bangs up, biting the inside of his cheek as they fall back down and brush the bridge of his nose. “You’d do this for him?” And his voice sounds small for some reason that Haruka can’t place, the uncertainty in Rin’s eyes as foreign to him as the small smile Sousuke sends his way. The redhead turns and suddenly they are both looking at Haruka, something in their expressions setting him on edge.

His nose twitches but he otherwise looks back at them unflinchingly. 

“Tell you what.” Sousuke shifts so that he’s leaning forward on the couch and Rin follows suit, resting his elbow against the brunet’s upper back. “Come into the shop tomorrow, say around four in the afternoon, and I’ll see what I can do for you.” He waits until Haruka nods before continuing, “We’ve got some time now, so why don’t we talk design?” 

Sousuke lifts one arm, the movement causing Rin’s elbow to fall away from him, and scratches at his left shoulder. Haruka can just make out the matching starburst painted there, a little bigger than Rin’s but a perfect match in every other way. For some reason, his throat closes up and he swallows heavily, lowering his gaze to the textbook in front of him. He wordlessly flips through the pages until he finds what he is looking for, turning the book around and pointing out the image to the two men on the couch.

They glance at each other for a second and a look of approval passes over Sousuke’s face. “Perfect,” he says, getting to his feet and settling next to Haruka at the table. He pulls a blank sheet of paper closer to him and gets to work on sketching a preliminary design, long strokes covering the page as he brings to life exactly what Haruka imagined. Over his shoulder, Rin is looking at the paper with interest, index finger passing over the underside of his chin in contemplation. “What about something like this?”

 

* * *

 

Makoto sighs as he flips to a clean page in his notebook and uncovers his pen, getting to work right away. For the first time all day, the tattoo parlour was empty and he intended to take full advantage of that to try and get some of his homework done. According to his planner, there was going to be a test in a week’s time and he had yet to prepare. Makoto sighs again and rests his chin on his fist, carefully tracing out the date at the top of the page. He’s so engrossed in his work that he misses the chime of the bell and nearly falls over when a soft voice breaks his concentration.

“Where’s Sousuke?”

His pen falls to the counter with a disproportionately loud clatter and Makoto lets out an embarrassing yelp, almost sliding off of his stool. “Sorry!” Rightening himself, he lets out his third sigh in as many minutes, one hand sheepishly brushing the hair at the back of his head down. “Ah, I’m really very sorry, I wasn’t paying attention and you just startled me, that’s all. Now, what can I help you with?”

The customer seems unconcerned and blinks slowly, finally allowing Makoto to get a proper look at him, and what he sees makes his heart stop. There is not a single doubt in his mind that the man in front of him is the most gorgeous human being that he has ever laid his eyes on. His hair is dark and silky, the bottom of his fringe resting upon high cheekbones and partially concealing his eyes, though Makoto can make out a hint of blue peeking through. He is suddenly struck with the urge to reach forward and brush the hair out of this stranger’s face, to see if it is as soft to the touch as he thinks it is, to uncover more of those captivating blue eyes, to get a clearer look at his face, at this face that he can hardly believe is real, this face that is so breathtaking that Makoto feels like his veins are full of fire and he can hardly breathe, there’s a weight in his chest that is holding him down and he can’t  _move_ , this man is so  _beautiful_  and Makoto has no idea what he’s doing anymore, doesn’t know why he is reacting this way and then suddenly he catches a glimpse of the man’s neck and everything makes sense.

His own soulmate mark, a matching anchor on the inside of his right wrist, begins to feel hotter and he bites his lip. Makoto has the craziest thought that  _the mark_  is what is urging him to reach out and touch the man; a slight brush of his fingertips against the impossibly pale wrist in front of him would be enough for the marks to bleed golden and that would be that. But this all has to be in Makoto’s head, a side effect of his excitement or something, because the man looks just as unaffected as he did when he walked into the tattoo parlour, save for a hint of concern in his eyes. 

Too late, Makoto realizes that the concern is directed at him. 

“I’m fine! I’m fine, sorry about that again. You were asking about Sousuke earlier, right?” He struggles to take in a deep breath, knowing that he needs to calm down. He holds it for a couple seconds before letting it out and smiling apologetically, words riding on yet another sigh. “He’s actually just left. He had an emergency at home or something. Or, uh, that’s what he said, but he didn’t seem to be in a hurry and he was as calm as always, so it couldn’t have been so bad, right?” A soft chuckle, nervous laughter, and then Makoto looks into  _those eyes_  again. “Um, so, hopefully I can still help you? Actually, there’s something…” he trails off, fingers picking at the edge of the leather cuff he always wears on his right wrist.

It would be the easiest thing in the world right now, to tell this man that they are soulmates. Or rather, it should be. All he would have to do is remove the cuff and hold out his wrist and the anchor itself would do the rest of the talking for him. So then why was this so difficult? Makoto goes to undo the knots on the cuff and pull it off but his fingers falter and he stutters over his own breath. There had to be some sort of mistake, right? That was the only explanation that he could think of because there was no way that  _this_  was his soulmate. None at all, none whatsoever; he was too perfect. And Makoto had enough self-esteem to know that he was no slouch, but that did not mean that he could possibly ever compare to the perfection personified right in front of him. Sneaking a glance at the customer one more time, he bites his lip and shakes his head, coming to a decision. His name; first, he would ask his name and then he would show him that they were soulmates. It would be more poilte that way and had nothing to do with stalling for more time. Nope, nothing at all.

The customer regards him curiously, probably waiting for him to finish his previous sentence, but when it appears that Makoto is finished, he begins to speak. “Sousuke left?”

Makoto nods.

The customer frowns.

The sight makes Makoto’s stomach twist and he averts his eyes in an attempt to stop the pain from spreading up into his chest cavity, wrapping around his heart and tightening with every beat it makes. An idea suddenly strikes him and his entire expression brightens, startling the man across from him. Rubbing at his chest with one hand, Makoto reaches across the counter and pulls the appointment book closer to him. “Name, please?” he asks, perfectly perfunctory.

“Nanase Haruka.”

Makoto bites his lip and tries to steady himself as he trails one finger down the list of names scribbled in on the page. Sousuke was a good boss and an even better friend, but he was terrible at keeping this book organized. Truthfully, Makoto had not been expecting to find anything in here to help the man –  _Haruka,_ he thinks. Which is why he is surprised to find a bright orange sticky note, his name catching his attention.

“What’s that?”

Haruka’s voice breaks through his thoughts and he smiles at the other man, tilting his head to the side unconsciously. “It appears that Sousuke left a note saying that I was to help you with whatever it was you wanted. So uh…what was that again? Because despite what he says here, I really cannot draw, it’s actually pretty embarrassing, so if you needed a design done then you should probably just reschedule for another time when he can actually help you out.” 

The corner of Haruka’s mouth twitches in what Makoto chooses to interpret as amusement, which just causes him to smile, a slight flush lighting up the tips of his ears. “If you can’t draw,” Haruka begins, pulling something out of his pocket and laying it flat on the counter, “then why are you working at a tattoo parlour?”

“Well…that is, I can do the tracing and colouring pretty well! I always used to at home, trace and colour, I mean. With my two younger siblings, so I guess that you could say that I’ve had lots of practice. And I haven’t had an unsatisfied customer yet, as long as Sousuke draws out the preliminary tattoo and gives it to me to work with.”

Haruka hums and then pins the sheet of paper in place on the counter, finger pointing to the depiction of a jellyfish scrawled across the length of the page. “This is what I want, but in blue. And I want it right here.” He taps the side of his neck with two fingers and Makoto’s heart falls into the pit of his stomach when he realizes what Haruka’s intentions are. He wants to cover his mark; the very thing that binds them together, the proof that they belong with one another. All at once, Makoto is glad that he chickened out of telling Haruka the truth. If he wanted to cover up his soulmate mark, then he obviously didn’t care about the meaning behind it and the last thing that Makoto wanted to do was tie him down. He hadn’t known Haruka for a very long time at all but suddenly, he wanted nothing more in the world than for him to be happy.

“Is it alright if I get a closer look at the design?” He tries to smile but has a feeling that he can’t quite pull it off, if the crease in Haruka’s forehead is anything to go by. Still, he nods and hands the paper over to him. Clearing his throat, Makoto holds the sheet up, hiding behind it as he closes his eyes for a couple seconds, trying to regroup. “Ah, luckily Sousuke drew this onto the tattoo paper already, so all I have to do is spray it onto your skin and we will be good to go!”

“I drew it.”

“Eh?”

Makoto stops in his tracks and looks back at Haruka, head tilted questioningly. He has one foot set inside the inner room of the studio, the other mid-stride, and he is in the middle of beckoning for Haruka to follow him when he pauses. The other man is looking down, face turned slightly to the side, but his voice is clear as he answers.

“I drew it. We drew it. Sousuke sketched it out but I cleaned it up. Made it…me.”

His words are choppy, like he does not quite know how to say exactly what he means and though he does a good job of trying to hide it, Makoto can see the faintest beginnings of a flush colouring the apples of Haruka’s cheeks. He finds the image extremely adorable and physically has to turn away lest a dopey grin spread across his face and make him look like an even bigger fool than the one he already feels like. 

“It’s very well done,” Makoto says earnestly. “Come on back so we can get started.”

And so the preparations begin. Makoto busies himself by getting out the appropriate tools and paper towels, rummaging in his colours for the little vials of ink that he needs, humming softly to himself under his breath while he organizes his station. Haruka silently sits in the chair, hands folded in his lap and feet flat on the floor, his gaze steady on Makoto as he works. He is caught in the act a total of two times, both resulting in the other man widening his vivid green eyes and faltering in his movements while Haruka just blinks and cuts his eyes away, only for them to settle right back where they started just moments later.

“Alright,” Makoto says. He drags a stool over to the chair and takes a seat, holding out a large, handheld mirror to Haruka. He gestures for him to hold it up and then, after sterilizing the skin, lightly presses the jellyfish design against his neck, doing so in a way that hides the anchor right where the tentacles meet the umbrella. He traces his gloved thumb across the mark, smoothing down the paper and tries to ignore the lurch in his chest. “Is this okay with you? Please remember that this is forever, so don’t be afraid to hound me until I get the placement right.”

Blue eyes gleam as they study the placement, small smile touching his lips as Haruka nods. 

Makoto sits there, still holding the paper up against Haruka’s neck, until he realizes that the other man is not going to say anything. Biting his lip sheepishly, he pops the cap of the spray off and applies it to the area, taking care not to miss a single spot. Then, with the air of a man handling something very precious, he gingerly removes the paper and lays it on the table beside him, gaze glued to the strong black lines now imprinted on the pale skin. “That looks really good,” he says quietly, inhaling sharply before picking up his gun and dipping the needle in the tiny cup of black ink. 

He chances a glance up at Haruka and is surprised to find him looking at him impassively, clearly waiting for the main event to start. Usually at this point in time, whoever is in the chair has one of three different expressions: eyes shut, teeth gritted, anxiously awaiting the inevitable slew of pain; lip caught between teeth, gaze trained on the ceiling, trying not to look as scared as they are; resolutely staring at the gun, almost willing it to get in, get the job done and then get out. But Haruka is in a category all on his own, following every movement that Makoto makes and he would be lying if he said that he isn’t feeling the pressure. But this is not a regular customer, this is his soulmate and he is determined the make this the best work that he has ever done in his short, part-time career as a quasi tattoo artist. So he takes a deep breath, smiles at Haruka, warns him to let Makoto know if he needs to take a break and then presses down on the footswitch, bringing the machine to life.

Nobody could ever say that Makoto does not put all of his effort into his endeavors – that just was not in his character. No matter what he was doing or who he was helping, he tried his very best. But there was something different about this particular tattoo. Every single stroke feels like he is putting a piece of his heart into it, using the image as a way to show this complete stranger, his  _soulmate_ , just how much he cares for him. And whenever he looks up to check if Haruka is okay or in need of a break, he finds brilliant blue eyes staring straight at him; the sight only makes him want to work harder on the jellyfish, taking a brief respite to dip the needle in the nearby cup of water before getting into the blue ink. He colours, he shades, he gets a little closer than he originally intended in order to pay better attention to detail and the whole time, the only sound present in the room is the soft hum of the tattoo machine. Bit by bit, the stark black and white image of the jellyfish is coloured in varying hues of blue, the darkest of which is able to perfectly conceal the anchor so that even Makoto casts doubt on its presence.

After what feels like hours, Makoto releases the footswitch for the last time and leans back in his stool, mindful not to overbalance. He shoots a tired smile at Haruka as he lays his gun on the towel next to him and peels off his gloves. “What do you think?”

Haruka accepts the mirror from him once more and Makoto watches as his eyes widen in what could only be astonishment. A genuine smile pulls at the corner of his mouth and Makoto has to rub at his chest to keep himself from falling apart. “It’s wonderful. Thank you.”

Makoto tears a piece of saran wrap off of the roll and gently lays it against the freshly-done tattoo, holding onto it as he grabs some pieces of tape to secure it in place. “I’m glad that you like it. Leave this on for two hours and then as soon as you take it off, rinse the tattoo with water. You need to put this cream on it for six weeks, twice a day. It will peel eventually, so don’t worry about that when it happens. If it gets swollen or starts to bleed, please come back and we will help you take care of it. Got it?”

He is so caught up in the spiel that he forgets to be careful, the edge of his pinkie finger lightly brushing the base of Haruka’s neck and just like that, an intense warmth spreads throughout his whole body. It is not necessarily a strange feeling; it reminds Makoto of the way his hair seems to stand on end when he needs to shiver, entire body relaxing once he gets the motion out of his system. And that’s exactly what happens now. He shivers and feels a tiny pinprick of pain in his right wrist and he can’t stop himself from looking at Haruka, wondering if he felt it too. 

There’s a strange look on his face as he raises one hand to his neck, fingers moving as if trying to soothe an itch. But as quickly as it comes, the show of emotion is gone and Haruka’s face once again shifts into the stoic expression that Makoto is quickly learning to be his default. His fingers fall away and instead finds purchase on the tube of Vitamin E cream that Makoto had pushed into his hands earlier. “Thank you,” he says again. He follows Makoto out of the back studio and into the front area, walking around the counter. “Put it on Sousuke’s tab.”

“Eh? Are you sure?”

“Sousuke’s tab.” 

The words are slightly stressed this time and Makoto finds himself smiling. He does as told and raises two fingers in a wave of farewell, ignoring the mounting pressure in his chest. If he thought that things were bad at first, actually touching Haruka has made everything worse. The thought of him leaving the shop and potentially never seeing him again causes a boulder to take root in Makoto’s chest, nestled amidst his lungs, making every breath a chore. “Ah, one more thing!”

Haruka stops.

“No pools, no saunas and no baths. The tattoo is not meant to be kept underwater. Six weeks, same as all the rest, okay? It’s important for the healing process.”

A look of dismay passes over the other man’s face but he nods once before stepping out of the shop, albeit with a tiny crease between his brows and a small pout on his lips. Makoto stays behind the counter, unable to look away as Haruka gets smaller and smaller. The distance feels like an uncrossable chasm – a clichéd thought, but one that won’t leave Makoto alone. It is only when Haruka is out of sight completely that his knees give out and he sags against the wood, fingers scrambling to take off his cuff. He tosses it to the side carelessly, staring in amazement at the golden anchor etched into his skin, the mark infinitely more beautiful than it had been just thirty minutes before.

“Haruka,” he says softly, savouring the way the name feels on his tongue. “Haruka. Haruka. Haruka.” If Makoto forgot every word he ever knew save for this one, if his entire vocabulary narrowed down to just this single name, he would find no reason to complain about anything, ever again. He does not need anything else. He’s never needed anything else. Haruka Haruka Haruka. It seems impossible that one simple name can loosen the knot in his chest, that three syllables can cause his heart to soar to such new heights but it has to be true because it’s happening to him right now. “Haruka,” he says again, cradling his head in his hands. “Nanase Haruka.” 

 

* * *

 

There are sounds coming from inside his apartment. Haruka can hear them as he stands outside his door, key poised to go in the lock. He’s not worried – he recognizes them instantly. But he has to admit that he’s a little put out. Right now, the only thing that he wants is to go inside, grill some mackerel and lounge on the couch while he tries to get the strange, fluttery feeling in his chest to leave him alone. He’s been feeling it ever since he stepped foot into the tattoo parlour and at first, he thought that they were a side effect of nerves. Despite his outward appearance, he actually had been nervous to get the tattoo done; he’s only human, after all. Then on the walk home, he deduced that it came from the thought of not being able to swim for six whole weeks. But somewhere between the front desk and the elevator, he’d come to terms with that and even realized that it might be for the best. Which leaves him back at square one: an uncomfortable feeling residing in his chest and no clue what to do about it. Haruka sighs and steps into his apartment, banging the door loudly behind him.

“Rin,” he calls out, toeing off his sneakers. “Give me back your key.”

There’s a yell and then the sound of something hitting the floor, any ensuing grumbling overshadowed by someone else trying to hold in their laughter. Haruka walks straight past his guests and into the kitchen, ready to remove the plastic wrap and let the tattoo breathe. It was restricting and though he is not entirely sure, Haruka thinks that he can feel some blood dripping down the side of his neck. It’s a wholly uncomfortable experience.

“Haru, come on!” A disheveled redhead appears in the kitchen doorway, straightening his hoodie. Moments later, he is joined by his soulmate, who casually rests his arm across Rin’s shoulders. 

“Key on the counter.”

“But we weren’t even having sex!”

“We have our own apartment for that,” Sousuke supplies, prompting Rin to give him a look. Equal parts exasperation and affection; Haruka knows the look well. It appears at least four times a year, Rin unable to help himself from making it whenever he retells the story of how he and Sousuke met – which happens on a quarter-annual basis, much to Haruka’s chagrin. Still, he would never fault his friend; even he can remember how excited Rin had been on the day, calling Haruka in the middle of class, voice in hysterics when he had answered the phone.

Not everybody would have been able to understand what Rin had been saying. Truthfully, Haruka had had some trouble himself, but he was well enough versed in Rin-speak that he could pick out the important parts. Like how Sousuke had pushed open the coffee shop door without looking, resulting in Rin spilling his large coffee down the front of his shirt. And how hot and scalding the fresh coffee had been, a howl tearing out of Rin’s throat as he tried to pull the fabric away from his skin, ears almost steaming in his anger. But when he had looked up to rip the man a new one, Sousuke had looked at the redhead with so much apology and sorrow in his eyes that Rin had cooled off immediately, and when he had brushed past Rin to get napkins in an attempt to help him clean up, their forearms had touched and an even hotter, more burning pain, intense like the heat of the sun, had rushed through Rin’s body, collecting right in the starburst on his chest and he had almost collapsed and then Sousuke had caught him before he could hit the floor and Rin, not knowing what to do, had run off, coffee-stained shirt and all. Gone to his favourite spot, the sakura blossom tree on the west edge of campus, and called Haruka right away, wondering what he should do now, angry at himself for literally running away from his soulmate, repeating over and over just how hot Sousuke was.

“Rin,” Haruka said. It did nothing to stop the onslaught of panic and he’d had to say it five more times before his friend had calmed down enough to listen to him. “Blow your nose. Then go and find him.” 

He’d hung up the phone then, turned it off and slipped it into his pocket before heading back in to the lecture hall to finish his class. And when he had arrived back at their shared apartment that night, Rin was glowing. His fingers were circled around Sousuke’s wrist as he introduced them to each other, excitement clear as day across his face. They’d been together ever since.

It was Rin’s favourite story to tell, especially the part about how much it had hurt for his soulmate mark to change. “Scorching hot coffee poured down my shirt, searing  _agony_  right in my chest, and it still wasn’t as painful as having to deal with this guy on a daily basis.” The same joke every time but it never mattered because he always laced their fingers together when he said it, looking at Sousuke with so much love that Haruka always had to turn away, feeling like he was intruding on something.

“Key on the counter,” he repeats, coming back to the present.

Rin grumbles but acquiesces. The key is patterned in blue, a small dolphin in mid-jump finding its home on the rounded top and the corner of Haruka’s mouth quirks when it comes into view. He nods his thanks to Rin, who just folds his arms and shuffles closer. He leans over the counter and uses his arms as a cushion, one eyebrow raised and the beginnings of a smirk pulling at his lips.

“What?”

“Lemme see it!”

Haruka hums in lieu of an answer. Carefully, he grasps the edges of the plastic wrap and pulls it away from his neck, hissing quietly when the tape pulls on some of his hair. His neck all of a sudden feels warm, phantom fingers passing over the skin there, larger than his own but the touch more gentle. It startles him into pausing for half a second but Rin notices, eyebrows furrowing, though he thankfully does not say anything. Instead, his attention is captured by the stunning blue jellyfish painted across Haruka’s neck, the vivid colour a startling contrast against his ivory skin. 

Sousuke steps up, holding a wet paper towel in his hand. “Let me help you,” he says, already wiping away the dried blood, the cool glide welcome against Haruka’s warm skin. Without saying anything, he tilts his head to the side, baring more of his neck so that they can get a closer look, eyes pinned to the clock on the wall. Half a minute goes by until Rin breathes, “Wow.” Another half and then Sousuke is putting down the paper towel, whispering in a strange voice, “Rin, look.” 

A spike of fear shoots straight through Haruka’s heart. He can’t place the emotion in Sousuke’s voice and he can’t turn to see his expression or else the tattoo will distort and whatever it is that has caught their attention may disappear. But the tone of his friend’s voice has made him uneasy, like there was something that he did not know. It sounded like a mixture between awe and Sousuke’s kind of happiness; quiet and accepting, like he is perfectly content with the way things are and he doesn’t believe that they could possibly get any better. But what reason could Sousuke have for feeling that way about Haruka’s tattoo? Nothing came to mind; it made no sense.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, a tinge of panic seeping into his voice.

“Huh? No, nothing.”

“It’s just,” Sousuke cuts in, moving into Haruka’s line of sight. “Makoto did a really good job, that’s all.”

“Makoto?”

Sousuke’s eyebrows draw together and he exchanges a look with Rin that inexplicably annoys Haruka. Ever since he’s come home, he feels like he is one step behind in every conversation that the three of them have; his two friends very clearly know something that he does not and also very clearly have no intention of sharing it with him. He feels like an outsider in his own apartment.

“Yeah, Makoto,” Sousuke reaffirms. “Tall guy, maybe an inch or two shorter than me. Light brown hair. Bright green eyes. Works at the tattoo shop and should have been there when you came in.” There is a pause and then Rin cuts in, voice muffled as he shifts and rests his chin against Sousuke’s left shoulder. “You mean he didn’t tell you his name?”

Haruka shakes his head, caught up in this new information. Makoto. Somehow, the name fit. Up until then, Haruka had just been calling him TDW in his head: Tall Drink of Water. It was a Western term and he wasn’t exactly sure what it meant, had just seen it in one of Gou’s light novels that he had found at Rin and Sousuke’s place. He had idly been thumbing through it, hardly engaged in the story at all and more passing the time, when he had come across the term and forgotten all about it soon after. But strangely enough, it was the first thing to come to mind when he left the shop today. Haruka supposes it makes sense in a way; he feels drawn to water and for some reason, he also feels drawn to Makoto. The reasoning was sound as far as he was concerned and that was all that mattered in the privacy of his mind.

“So then what exactly did you guys talk about?”

He ignores Rin’s question for the time being, moving over to the cupboard and pulling out a package of fish flavoured crisps. He had almost forgotten his hunger, losing track of the time in his conversation with Rin and Sousuke and suddenly feeling drained. Surely in no condition to grill anything, he leaves the kitchen and settles on the couch, feet curled up, waiting for his friends to follow him out. He doesn’t have to wait long; the duo appears seconds after he wrestles the bag open, but Rin is chewing his lip in thought and Sousuke looks decidedly unimpressed. There’s a muscle in his jaw that is jumping and Haruka regards it curiously before biting into a crisp. 

“We didn’t really talk very much,” he finally says, catching their attention. “He spaced out a bit at first and then found the note that you left for him, Sousuke. Then he told me that he couldn’t draw, spaced out again, complimented the design, did the tattoo for me and that was that. He got weird, I guess…some time in the middle.” He bites into another crisp, chewing thoughtfully. “He was trying to hide it but his eyes looked sad, somehow. I didn’t ask about it, none of my business.” 

But he had wanted to. For reasons that even he could not begin to understand, seeing the light dim in those too-green eyes had affected him. Although he had no idea what had happened to make Makoto wilt like that, no part of Haruka had liked seeing him that way. It was the reason why he had kept his eyes on Makoto for the whole time he had been working on the tattoo: he had wanted to see if Makoto would feel better. And despite on a show like nothing was wrong and he was completely fine, Haruka had been able to see right through it. There was no explanation as to why; the two of them had only just met and barely even spoken about anything of consequence. Yet it seemed to Haruka like Makoto’s emotions were painted across his face, bright and  bold and demanding to be noticed, seen, validated. He had briefly wondered if the same was true the other way around, if Makoto could easily tell how Haruka was feeling with a mere glance, but the thought had sent ice straight to the pit of his stomach and he had quickly brushed it away.

“Okay,” Sousuke says simply. He pulls out his phone and starts tapping at the screen, tilting his head slightly so that Rin, who is trying to look at what he’s doing over his shoulder, can get a better view. “We’re heading out now, Haru. Rin has an early practice tomorrow and I have to go over the books for the parlour, so we should be getting home.” His grip on his phone tightens slightly as Sousuke looks up at Haruka, eyes appraising. “The tattoo looks really good,” he says again, a smile softening his eyes, though Haruka can still see the tension in his jaw.

Suddenly remembering something, Haruka stretches out his legs and stands up, the empty bag of crisps dangling from his fingers. “Wait.” He does some quick math in his head as he retrieves his wallet from the bedroom, pleased to find that he had enough money on him and wouldn’t have to owe any. When he walks back into the living room, Rin and Sousuke are standing up, heads bent together, talking about something that seems to be getting Rin riled up. To Haruka’s surprise, even Sousuke looks slightly annoyed, his eyebrow quirked in what looks like frustration. He hopes that they’re not having a fight in the middle of his apartment, wonders how they could go from happy to agitated in the short time it took for him to trek from the living room to his bedroom and back again, but then Sousuke hooks an arm around Rin’s neck to pull him closer and presses a kiss to the crown of his head and though Rin tries to elbow him away, his face is blushing bright red and it seems like everything is okay. Once again, Haruka is lost.

“I put the tattoo on your tab,” he explains, pressing the folded notes into Sousuke’s palm.

He nods in understanding and pockets the money. “Thanks. See you later, Haru.” 

It’s Haruka’s turn to nod now, at both Rin and Sousuke as they make their way to the front door. He ducks into the kitchen to grab something, meeting up with his friends just as they finish putting on their shoes. Rin is the first one up, unlocking the door and then pulling it open with a flourish. “Later Haru,” he says, flashing a peace sign and disappearing into the hallway. Sousuke moves to follow him, but Haruka stops him with a hand on his forearm. Without a word, he presses the key into his palm, much like he did with the money just moments earlier. “Thanks,” he says quietly, and is surprised to find that he really, truly means it.

 It is not until much later when Haruka is lying in his bed, caught up in endless thoughts of green eyes and gentle hands and a warm touch, that he realizes exactly what it was that he was thanking Sousuke for.

 

* * *

 

Nagisa is like a bloodhound. Makoto knows this, has known it for the better part of three years and on occasion, has come to fear it. Which is why he is trying to sneak into his own apartment at 8:54 in the night, pushing the front door open and wincing as it creaks. It’s no use, he knows. His roommate will know the minute that he gets home and come running out to greet him, like always. 

But he also knows that Nagisa will be able to take one look at him and know that something happened. That something has changed Makoto’s life in a way that will never be able to be undone, no matter how much he may wish it to be possible. Because honestly, it hurt. To have found his soulmate and then lost him all in the space of one afternoon felt awful and being chewed out by the tag team of Yamazaki Sousuke and Matsuoka Rin did not help at all. He had just sat there, homework forgotten in front of him as he listened to their words but offered up none of his own. He could not explain to them why he had done what he’d done, not when he could barely understand it himself. All that he wanted was to make Haruka happy, so he’d kept his mouth shut and given the man exactly what he wanted – to cover up his soulmate mark and pretend it did not exist. To make it like he had never had one to begin with. 

But the truth was that  _he_  wanted to be the one to make Haruka happy. He wanted to be the reason for his breathtaking smile, the only person who can cause him to make such an expression no matter what. Was that selfish of him? Maybe, but Makoto supposed that it came with the territory. After all, Haruka was meant to be Makoto’s world, wasn’t that right? And Makoto was meant to be Haruka’s. That was what the golden anchors meant. In the end, he had just tiredly told his friends that he would figure it out and although Rin had looked nowhere near finished with him, something in his voice must have sounded serious because the redhead had backed off.

Or maybe not so much serious as sad, Makoto thinks. 

He drops his backpack, the sheer weight of it making a muted thud against the wooden floors, and quietly sighs, leaning back against the door.  _Five, four, three, two_  – the sound of bounding footsteps is the only warning Makoto has before thin arms wrap around his middle, squeezing tightly. “Mako-chan!”

Makoto laughs lightly, petting the top of Nagisa’s head with one hand while he uses the other to simultaneously pry him off. The blond gives him one last squeeze and then steps back, right as Rei steps into the room, textbook held tightly in his hands. Without even glancing in his direction, Nagisa throws himself onto his soulmate’s shoulders. To his credit, Rei hardly moves except to shift his balance to accommodate Nagisa’s extra weight more efficiently, letting the textbook fall to the ground. “Good evening, Makoto-senpai.”

He smiles at them tiredly and moves past them into the kitchen. “Hey guys.” 

The others follow behind him, trailing him as if he was a mother duck and they were his ducklings. But before he can ask them what was wrong, Nagisa just blurts it out, obviously too excited to wait any longer. “Ne, ne Mako-chan. Who’s Haru-chan?” The golden triangle just underneath his eye is shimmering as he vibrates with energy, unable to stand still. Despite staying silent, Rei also has a look of intense curiosity on his face as he looks back and forth between his two friends, waiting for the explanation he is sure will follow.

Makoto’s stomach instantly twists, a strange mixture of dread and longing making his mouth go sour. He runs one hand through his hair, trying to forget the feeling of soft, creamy skin beneath these very same fingers only hours before. He fails and inhales sharply, cringing at the way his voice cracks when he asks, “What do you mean?”

His friends share a look at his reaction and Nagisa promptly stops bouncing around. His eyebrows draw together as he regards Makoto with worry, leaning in close and butting his head against his side. He keeps it there for a moment, increasing the pressure a touch before stepping back and grabbing onto his soulmate’s shoulders, hopping up on one leg so that he can reach properly. 

“You tell him,” Nagisa says, content to keep his eyes on Makoto and catalogue his reaction. It happens at least once a week; Makoto is very familiar with the look on Nagisa's face. The only difference is that the last time he’d worn it, he had been trying to find the right way to tell Makoto that he’d accidentally fallen down on top of his laptop and cracked the screen with his elbow. Unlike now, when all that he’d done was open up a can of worms that Makoto wasn’t sure he was ready to stomach. It was still too much of a sore spot, raw and bruised around the edges.

Rei taps his pointer finger high up against his cheek, chin cradled in the rest of his hand. “Rin-san and Sousuke-san called for you a few hours before you came back. It was difficult to hear what they were saying because they kept speaking over each other and Rin-san was yelling but from what I could put together, they are very angry with you about…how you kept something from someone named Haru and what is wrong with you, how could you…? Most of it was lost on me.”

Makoto groans and buries his face in his hands. He knew exactly what Sousuke and Rin had been yelling into the phone because after finding him not at home, they’d showed up at the tattoo parlour and said their piece there. Not only had their reprimands been playing on a loop through his mind on the way home, but now he was hearing the watered down version again. He just wanted it all to stop.

Nagisa comes towards him with the air of someone approaching a tiger, voice softer than Makoto has heard it in a long time. “What happened?” 

To tell the truth, Makoto is sorely tempted to escape from the kitchen and hide out in his room. If he locks his door and moves his side table over, he can probably buy himself a few more hours before he’s forced to deal with this. But he knows his friends; he knows that Nagisa will stop at nothing to get him to talk and he knows that Rei, while not necessarily saying much at all, will spend the rest of the night fretting over him and wearing a groove into the floor with all of his inevitable pacing. But what he knows most of all is this: no matter how curious or nosy his friends can be, their worry will override those other emotions every time. And if he turns tail now, it’ll only make things worse for all three of them. Makoto takes a deep breath, focusing across the room at a crayon drawing stuck to the fridge – a present from his younger siblings. 

 Then he begins to talk.

“Nanase Haruka. He’s my…he’s Rin’s best friend and they’ve known each other for years and he came into the shop today to get a tattoo done and he’s…Haruka is my soulmate.” His eyes flicker from the fridge to his friends and then to the ceiling as Makoto holds out his right arm, palm facing up, golden mark on full display. He can hear their quiet gasps and can feel it when Nagisa moves closer to get a better look but keeps his eyes trained heavenward, not wanting to see their reactions quite yet. He knows what’s going to come next.

“You haven’t told him, Makoto-senpai?” Despite phrasing it like a question, Rei is simply stating a fact.

Makoto shakes his head, the action laced with such sadness and defeat that both Rei and Nagisa audibly swallow. “No.” 

“Mako-chan,” Nagisa begins, but Makoto cuts him off with a tired sigh. He holds up one hand, not unkindly, and looks at his friend with weary eyes. “I’m sorry you guys, I just don’t want to talk about this right now. It’s been a long day and I’m tired and I have some studying to do but I just want to go to bed.” 

Neither of his friends say anything as he passes them, heading to his room and a sudden rush of gratitude warms his heart. He doesn’t know what he was thinking, trying to hide from them earlier. Talking things would with people, sharing problems and garnering their support – that was always something that made him feel better. There was no reason why it should not have been the same now; he just hadn’t been thinking straight. Makoto blames it on the events of the day clouding both his mind and his judgment and he can’t believe that it has only been a mere four hours since he’s last seen Haruka. With the way that his chest has been throbbing since then, he’s almost sure that it’d been days, at least.

He lays back on his bed, dragging his hands down his face. “What are you doing?” he whispers to himself, rubbing at his eyes so hard that little bursts of light dance across his vision. It takes him back to when he was younger, lying down beneath the stars for hours on end, making a wish every time he saw one shooting across the sky. Childish as it may be, he squeezes his eyes shut and clasps his hands together tightly, just like he used to back then. “I want to see him again.” His voice is soft, lost in the quiet of his room and he exhales shakily before rolling onto his side. “I just want to see him again.”

It takes six weeks for his wish to come true.

“Sousuke, I don’t understand why we have to do this today,” Makoto says, trying and failing to stand his ground as his boss pulls him along. He trips over his own feet, the only thing stopping him from face-planting in the middle of the sidewalk and making a fool of himself being Sousuke’s iron clad grip around his bicep.

Sousuke sighs. “Makoto. I don’t know why you’re still asking; we’ve already come all this way. Just like I told you as we closed the shop early, and just like I told you on the train ride over here –  _three times_  – we were invited. These plans have been set in motion for weeks, it’s important.”

“I know but I just – I’m behind on my schoolwork right now and I thought that I would have tonight to finish up my essay before it’s due on Tuesday, that’s all.” 

“Listen,” Sousuke says. He loosens his grip and drop his arm, shoving his hands into his pockets instead. “You’re here now. It’ll be fun. You might enjoy it more than you think.”

Makoto finally relents, the tension draining from his shoulders and he lets out a deep sigh. Sousuke did have a point, after all; what use would it be to go back home and get started on his work when he’d already wasted so much time getting to the aquarium in the first place? Even if he ended up having the worst time of his life, it would be pretty hard for anything to come close to being as painful as an essay on English grammar. Objectively, Makoto knows that it always pays to be fluent in a second language, but that didn’t explain why English had to be both so difficult and so widespread. If he thought that it would help him in the long run, he’d have gone back and changed over to French or Spanish or Italian, not English. But it was too late for that now. “Fine, fine. But if I have to pull an all-nighter to get the essay done on time, I’m taking you down with me.”

Their steps slow as they approach the red over-hang and in the distance, Makoto can make out two figures standing beneath it. The one to the left has got his hands in the front pocket of his hoodie, speaking animatedly as he toes at the ground with his sneaker. Even without the shock of red hair visible underneath the bill of his cap, Makoto can tell that it’s Rin. That’s hardly a surprise: Gou was the one who had invited them. It’s when he catches a glimpse of Rin’s companion that his heart starts to do something weird in his chest. Catches somewhere between soaring and falling into the pit of his stomach, ending up in his throat, making it difficult to breathe. Black hair, pale skin, blue eyes and (the final nail in the coffin) a jellyfish to match floating across his neck, it is undoubtedly Haruka and the look that Makoto turns on Sousuke is nothing short of betrayal.

“Why would you do this?” he asks quietly, fingers gripping the hem of his shirt.

“It’s important,” Sousuke repeats. The weight of his statement gives them both pause for just a second and then he’s moving to meet Rin halfway, leaving Makoto behind to try pull himself together.  

“You can do this. You can do this!” 

“Who are you talking to?”

Makoto yelps and whirls around, shoulders instinctively hunching in on themselves so that he appears smaller. Haruka stands before him, one eyebrow quirked in amusement, and he feels himself relax, chest deflating as he lets out a deep sigh of relief. “I’m sorry, you just startled me. But uh…no, nobody. Just myself.” He rubs the back of his neck self consciously, nervous laughter dotting his words. Not only had he been found out giving himself motivation for something as simple as going to the aquarium with his friends, but he had been found out by his soulmate, with whom he was already incredibly  _gone_  for – but who had no idea of their connection. He was starting to miss the mind-numbing pain and befuddlement of English grammar; at least he knew what he was in for whenever he cracked open his textbook.

Haruka nods once but doesn’t press the issue. “Right.”

“Right,” Makoto repeats, inwardly cringing. There is a brief moment of awkward silence as Haruka looks around lazily, fingers visibly clenching and unclenching at his sides, before Makoto clears his throat. It hadn’t escaped his notice that Sousuke and Rin were too wrapped up in each other to even think about heading inside the aquarium, so he figures that getting the tickets for all of them would be as good a first step as any. After all, he may have put aside his homework for the night but time was still money, neither of which Makoto was exactly swimming in. He couldn’t afford to just stand around outside, even if he was doing so with the one person who had plagued his thoughts for the last month and a half. 

Haruka turns to look at him then, and Makoto inclines his head towards the ticket booth in a silent invitation, to which he receives little more than a nod before they are both off. But to his surprise, the short walk is not awkward at all. While it’s true that they do not speak, there is a particular air around them, one that makes Makoto feel more comfortable than he has in a long time. It’s impossible to tell if the man next to him feels the same, but there’s a faint quirk to one of Haruka’s eyebrows that tells the him that he’s enjoying himself and the feeling that springs up in his chest at that – one of pure, unadulterated joy – is almost laughable.

“Four tickets please. Adult.” 

The smile on his face must be infectious because the girl behind the counter beams back at him, a faint blush riding high on her cheekbones. She begins to put the information in the computer when the sound of a throat clearing draws all attention to the man at Makoto’s side, face tilted down, eyes cut to the side.

“Three,” he says. Before Makoto can ask him what he means, Haruka pulls out his wallet and flips it open, his year long pass to the Shinagawa Aquarium on full display. He finally looks at Makoto and despite the colour in his cheeks, his blue eyes are shining so brilliantly that Makoto almost loses his breath, suddenly so in awe of how one human being can be so adorable yet so beautiful at the same time, so interesting and amazing and perfect all at once. He barely knows Haruka, yet this is something that he is already sure of.

“Then three, please,” he amends. The girl looks between the two of them, a contemplative look on her face, before she nods and her expression smooths out. The only sound is the whir of the printer as it spits out their tickets and the girl gathers them up in her hands before holding them out to Makoto, accepting the money he hands her in exchange. There’s a moment where she flicks her gaze all over him, surely looking for something, though Makoto has no idea what, but she apparently never finds what she is looking for and deflates slightly.

“Please enjoy Shinagawa Aquarium!” she says, slotting the money away, a tinge of sadness lurking under the professional tone of her voice. 

Makoto separates one ticket from the rest and slides it into his pocket, waving a cheerful goodbye at the girl behind the counter as he and Haruka move away. They hadn’t exactly made plans with the others to meet back up somewhere, so he has no idea where to go or what to do. Luckily, Haruka seems to be very familiar with the place; he would be, Makoto muses, remembering the year long pass that was tucked away in the other man’s wallet. He noiselessly leads them to a side window that is out of the way from general traffic and Makoto breathes a sigh of relief as he catches sight of his friends outside. He can’t hear what they’re talking about but based on the way Rin’s eyes are narrowed and he’s chewing on his lower lip, he can hazard a pretty good guess.  

All at once, the dull, familiar feeling of guilt makes its presence known in his stomach, blooming outward so that it rises up into his chest and grabs onto his lungs, making it hard to breathe. He knows what Sousuke and Rin are trying to do and he cannot even begin to explain how grateful he is to them for it. Ever since Makoto had met Haruka, all that he has wanted to do was see him again, talk to him some more, learn more about him,  _be_  with him. But even though he wants nothing more than that, he knows that succumbing to those very same wants are only going to end up hurting him. He knows that no matter how much time he spends with Haruka, no matter how much more he falls in love with him because that’s exactly what is happening, he’s falling in love with him, he barely knows him but he’s so enraptured, so fascinated with who he is as a person that this couldn’t possibly be anything other than love, this feeling that takes ahold of him whenever he sees Haruka, it could  _only_  be love because they’re soulmates and they’re  _meant_  to be together, he knows this and Sousuke knows this and Rin knows this but Haruka does not know this because Haruka covered up his soulmate mark because he doesn’t want a soulmate. Or else why would he do such a thing? That’s the only feasible explanation that Makoto can come up with and it’s because of this that he knows he can never tell the other man the truth. He wouldn’t want to become a burden to him and  _that_  is why he can never do what he knows Sousuke and Rin want him to do.

But still, Makoto doesn’t have the heart to tell them that they’re wasting their time because he wants to be around Haruka. So he’ll take what he can get, he’ll go along with Sousuke and Rin’s schemes but never follow through on their wishes – does that make him a bad person? Selfish, definitely; taking advantage of not only his friends but Haruka too. But he doesn’t know what else to do, the sheer amount of conflicting feelings too much for him to think about lest he get a headache so he always shoves them aside, locks them away in Pandora’s Box and never lets them out. He knows that one day this is going to come back and bite him in the ass but that’s a bridge that Makoto will cross when he gets to it. 

“Makoto?”

He blinks, shaken out of his thoughts, and finds Haruka looking at him with wide eyes. “Yes?”

He looks at him a touch longer before the expression falls. “Nothing,” he says. He idly brushes a hand against the base of his neck, fingertips trailing across the blue jellyfish and Makoto suddenly startles. He ignores the look of confusion that Haruka pins him with, although he does tone down his movements, slightly abashed.  

“Sorry.” He runs a hand through his sandy hair, lingering at the back of his head. “This is my first time seeing it close up since it was finished, that’s all. It looks – really good. It came out really nicely.”

A small smirk pulls at the corner of Haruka’s mouth. “You’re aware that you’re complimenting your own work, right?”

It takes Makoto a while to realize what he means, mainly because he is so caught up in the look on Haruka’s face. It is the most relaxed that he has ever seen the other man, every plane of his face soft as he tries to hold back his amusement. And maybe it would work on somebody else but not Makoto; he can see the mirth in Haruka’s eyes, making the blue stand out against his pale skin and dark hair, two shimmering sapphires worth more than their weight in gold. He almost feels lightheaded at the sight. But he comes back down to Earth when he finally realizes the implications of Haruka’s words, flushing in embarrassment and holding his face in his hands. “Nanase-san, please! You know that I didn’t mean it like that!”

“Haru.”

“Eh?” Makoto peeks through the cage of his fingers, head tilted inquisitively to the side.

“My name. You can call me Haru.”

“Ah! Of course, thank you very much, Haru-chan.” 

A loud voice cuts across the room just then, causing Haruka’s mouth to snap shut, whatever rebuttal he was about to give forgotten for now. “Oi!” Makoto glances over, almost having forgotten that Sousuke and Rin were at the aquarium with them, and lifts his fingers in a stationary wave as the redhead continues, “What’s the hold up? We’ve been waiting for you guys for ten minutes!” But Makoto can see the barely concealed glee in Rin’s face, the way he looks at the two of them knowingly, chest puffed up like a proud parent. It matches well with the look of satisfaction that Sousuke sports and Makoto can’t help but shake his head fondly.

Haruka looks from Rin to Makoto and back again, his confusion evident in the pout of his lips, but he seems to drop the matter readily enough, already moving forward to meet up with their friends. He pauses just long enough to mutter, “Drop the –chan,” in a grumpy retort and then goes ahead, walking quickly.

Makoto laughs.

 

* * *

 

 “Oh – I’m so sorry!”

Haruka shakes his head lightly, trying to tell the girl that no harm has been done without having to actually say the words. Instead, he crouches down next to her and begins to help gather her bags together, lamenting his decision to come to the mall in the first place. He’d had no choice though; he was all out of bath bombs and Rin refused to buy him anymore. The redhead would ordinarily pick some up whenever Haruka needed because he spent more time in the mall, whether he was shopping around for clothes or jammers or just spending some time with Sousuke and dropping in for something to eat. But ever since Haruka had teased him for using the Sakura bath bombs, his best friend had quickly declared that he was no longer going to help Haruka keep his stash fully stocked. Although sometimes the man found that his collection mysteriously wasn’t going down, despite using them at least three times a week, he never dared say anything because he knew that Rin really  _would_  stop if any attention was brought to his sentimentality.

But it was not a sure deal and two days ago, Haruka had found himself staring into the basket, nothing but empty space where his collection of bath bombs should have been. Today was the first time that he’d had some time to make a trip to the mall but after spending a mere ten minutes in the noisy, crowded building, he was regretting his decision. Even more so when a girl had bumped into him and dropped her belongings all over the ground. That alone wasn’t so bad, but the look that the girl gives him now as he helps her – curious eyes quickly taking on an edge of hunger as she looks for his mark – does not help the situation at all.

“Thank you so much,” she says, pushing herself to her feet. She swings her long, dark hair over her shoulder and shifts all of her weight onto her left leg, sticking out her hip.

Haruka just blinks and hands over the bags, the polite smile on his face quickly dropping as she intentionally brushes their fingers together. How bold; unable to find his mark, she must have just taken a shot, hoping for a favourable outcome. Tired of being appraised for his mark was one of the reasons why Haruka had gotten it covered up, but apparently he had underestimated the general public. But when did looking stop being enough, when did people start to think that they had the right to touch like that? 

Haruka finds himself relieved that there is no electricity shooting up his arm, no intense pain breaking out across his neck, not even a subtle itch on any part of his body and he takes a step backwards, trying not to notice the disappointment on the girl’s face. “You’re welcome,” he mutters belatedly, response coming out too late, but he doesn’t care. Instead, he turns his back on her and walks away, desperate now more than ever to just get what he came for and then leave.

This is why he tries to leave his house as little as possible and even then, usually only when Rin forcibly drags him out.

The tension in his shoulders melts away the second that he ducks into the store, somehow feeling safer among the bath products. Not that there is very much that catches his attention; there are only two varieties of bath bomb that he buys religiously, and one more that he sometimes gets just to shake things up. The way that his nerves feel after that encounter (and he really cannot understand why; the whole deal isn’t anything new to him, except maybe when she brushed her fingers across his and he suddenly feels like there’s a spider walking along the back of his hand, prompting him to rub it harshly against the side of his leg) has him reaching for his favourite bath bomb instantly, and he drops an extra in the bag so that he can make his bath extra fizzy once he gets home.

He makes quick work of his task and soon fills a bag almost to the brim, leaving just enough room to tape down the top and stop anything from falling out. Haruka glances at the Sakura bath bombs once, twice, three times, before reaching out and grabbing a new bag to make one for Rin and repay him for all of the times he’s been the one on this side of their friendship. But just as he picks up the first little sphere, a familiar voice breaks into his thoughts and he pauses, ears perking up.

“Yes, I – ack! – I promise that I’ve gotten them all. At least I think so…did you want the pink starry one too? Yeah, with moons and stars kind of on it but…higher than the rest of it. Ah, I can’t remember what it’s called right now – “

“Embossed,” Haruka cuts in, drops one of the white balls into his bag and tightens his grip as the added weight threatens to make him drop it.

“Wah?!” Makoto gives such a startled jump that Haruka is afraid he will drop his cell phone but he rights himself quickly, shooting him a quick smile. “No, I’m okay, Haru just caught me by surprise, that’s all. He says embossed, the moons are embossed on the thing. Yes – and the vanilla one and the forest one too, right? I’ve got it, I’ll be sure to bring them – whoa! – over as soon as I can. I love you too. Bye.”

He tries to take the phone from his ear and click it off but instead almost drops it and Gods, he looks ridiculous. Haruka cannot tell if it’s because he tried to catch it with his chin or because his hair is all messy, as if he’s been running his hands through it constantly, like picking out bath products is a task to rival that of defusing a bomb, or if it is because he is trying to juggle four  _open_  bags filled to the brim with fizzy bath bombs and one will surely drop and explode if he’s not careful,  _especially_  since he’s trying to fill another even as he speaks. “Haru! I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Makoto. Stop.”

“Eh?” 

The look that he gets then is one part confused puppy, one part confused Makoto. Which is actually just as lethal, in Haruka’s opinion, and he closes his eyes and sighs. With his eyes still closed, he tucks his full bag under his arm and holds out his hand expectantly, wiggling his fingers. “You’re going to drop something.”

A smile breaks out across Makoto’s face, though Haruka can just make out a hint of embarrassment curling the edges. “Ah, thank you. I just wanted to get everything that she asked me to and I ended up troubling you. I’m sorry.” Something is clouding those green eyes, making them darker and more dull than Haruka cares to see and he shakes his head, suddenly agitated.

“Don’t be stupid.” 

This time, it is a true smile that Makoto directs towards him and Haruka tries to ignore the flutter he feels, like someone had missed the mark when trying to drop a bath bomb into the tub and accidentally gotten it into his stomach somehow. But the feeling quickly disappears when he remembers what Makoto had been saying on the phone, replaced by something darker and unfamiliar and Haruka has to physically stop himself from grimacing. The math seems simple enough: bath bombs, love and an unidentified woman, bonus points because Makoto is taking them over to her house – all of this equals to a girlfriend. For some reason, this realization makes Haruka’s face burn.

In all honesty, Haruka is surprised that he hadn’t figured it out sooner. Makoto is tall and sweet and handsome and his goodness radiates off of him so intensely that it’s almost tangible. Anybody would be lucky to be his soulmate, which doesn’t explain why Haruka is overcome with sorrow. Who does he have to feel sorry for? Makoto’s soulmate is probably the luckiest woman in the world, having won the soulmate lottery like she did. His eyes widen as he realizes where his thoughts have wandered off to and Haruka tilts his face downward, taking refuge behind his bangs.

“Haru? Are you okay?”

Finally dropping the last purple bath bomb into the bag, Haruka folds the top closed and holds it out to Makoto, ignoring his question. Instead, he counters with one of his own and instantly curses himself for sticking his foot so spectacularly into his mouth. “Do you have a soulmate?”

The degree to which Makoto’s eyes widen would be comical if Haruka was not burning in embarrassment. He absolutely hates when people try to get the same information out of him, whatever their tactics may be, and yet here he is, turning it around onto Makoto. He wants to brush it off, tell him to forget about it, but the genuine curiosity behind his words clog his throat and all he can do is watch as Makoto seems to fight with himself over something. His brows are screwed up as he debates with himself, an adorable crinkle in his nose, mouth moving but nothing coming out until finally, his whole body sags.

“We all have soulmates, don’t we?” 

The response is anticlimactic and he is about to open his mouth to respond, though he has no idea what he wants to say, when Makoto reaches out to relieve Haruka of the bag. “Thank you for your help, Haru. My mother will be happy that I was able to find everything and get them with as little damage as possible.” He laughs lightly at his own joke and Haruka can feel the corner of his mouth pull up in an answering smile, any lingering awkwardness disappearing as if it had never existed in the first place.

“Your mother?” He takes stock of the five filled bags in Makoto’s hands and the two in his own and then makes his way towards the check out counter, pleased to find that Makoto has followed his lead without any need for prompting and is keeping pace with him.

“Yeah. My little sister has gotten obsessed with these recently and it’s the only way that she’ll take a bath. And then my little brother doesn’t want to be left out of all the fun, so my mom asked to me get a lot and take them back home next time I go for a visit, which should be in a few months, I think I may go back for my birthday, but I didn’t want to forget when school started to get more hectic so I thought that I’d just get them now and keep them safe in my apartment and – hey! Haru, you don’t have to do that!” 

The cashier looks startled and pauses in her movements, one hand outstretched to accept Haruka’s money. Frustrated, he pushes it into her palm and shakes his head at Makoto’s sputtering. “Don’t pay attention to him,” he tells her. She still looks a little unsure, but complies under Haruka’s insistence. They both ignore Makoto as she puts the money away and slips the receipt into the bag, which Haruka then picks up. He takes for granted that Makoto will follow him, which the he does, harried protests falling on deaf ears as he trails the other man back out into the mall.

“Haru, please! Let me at least pay you back, you don’t have to spend your money on my siblings, I already told Mom that I would handle it. Please, I have to insist, Haru! Haruka!”

That finally gets him to stop and he levels Makoto with a stare so severe that the other man actually shrinks back. But it only takes a second before he is standing at his full height again and Haruka suddenly feels very small in comparison. Suddenly wonders what it would feel like to stand chest to chest with him, wonders if his head would tuck perfectly into the hollow of Makoto’s throat, if he would be able to hear Makoto’s heartbeat like that, the perfect affirmation that he is here and real and alive and – he banishes the thoughts as quickly as he let them come and raises his chin to look straight into eyes so green that it hurts.

“Consider it payback,” he says, and is horrified to find that his voice wavers just a bit.

Makoto seems to notice as well, because his face softens and his voice is impossibly tender as he asks, “Payback for what?”

Unable to look away, Haruka fumbles into his pocket and pulls out his phone, almost dropping it due to the trembling of his fingers. His new phone charm starts to sway, the smiling face of Shinagawa Aquarium’s dolphin mascot hanging between them as Haruka pushes his phone into Makoto’s face. He backs up – but when had he leaned in closer? – and blinks at the sudden movement, but his expression smooths out as realization begins to dawn on him. 

“Ah.”

But that is all that he says and after a brief lull, Haruka nods. It’s been a few weeks since their trip to the aquarium but Haruka can remember it like it was yesterday; how vast the water had looked stretching over his head like that, teeming with life as the fish swam every which way, as the coral and seaweed swayed in time with the ocean currents. How different it was, going to the aquarium alone versus having Makoto at his side, staring into the tanks with just as much wonder reflected his eyes as what Haruka suspected could be found in his own as well. How, after learning that Haruka’s major was in marine biology, Makoto took to asking him questions, actually listening attentively to the answers given to him, finding interest in something that Haruka loves, something that he chose to give his life to, to make a career in. How, upon realizing this, a brief image flashed through his head, one of coming home to Makoto and recounting his day and being met with the same look of fascination, but fascination also mixed in with something else, something that made his cheeks warm up in a fierce blush and his insides go swimmy. How later on in the gift shop, Haruka had been entranced by the cute little phone charm but could not justify buying it when he’d just spent a lot of money earlier that day.

And how, after parting ways with Makoto at the train station, Rin had pressed said phone charm into his palm and just raised an eyebrow at Haruka’s questioning look, making it obvious who the gift was really from.

“Thank you.”

Makoto smiles. “You’re welcome, Haru.”

Haruka draws in a shaky breath and slips his phone back into his pocket. He doesn’t know why his heart is pounding in his chest and is almost scared that it’s loud enough for Makoto to hear as well, but the only thing that he can focus on right now is that he needs to  _go_. To put some distance between himself and Makoto because whenever the other man is around it’s like he can’t think properly and he doesn’t know why. He takes his bath bombs out from the bag, which he then pushes into Makoto’s chest before taking a few steps backwards. He knows walking away without saying anything is rude and Makoto deserves better than that, but he doesn’t know what to say without sounding like an idiot. He swallows hard and settles on a pathetic little wave, dropping his hand to his neck as he turns away and passing his fingers over the jellyfish tattoo, trying to stop the tingling that he feels on his skin.

“Something strange is happening to me,” he murmurs. His voice is so quiet that not even he can hear it and he finally stops rubbing at his neck, looking down at his hand in confusion. He makes a mental note to ask Rin about it, tries to ignore the fact that he doesn’t even know what  _it_  is, and drags a hand down his face. 

When exactly did his life become so troublesome?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extras:
> 
> I couldn’t find any way for this to fit into the fic but I actually created a timeline in which all of the different sections takes place. It was mainly because I like to keep things organized and linear and writing out a timeline made me feel better and more grounded but the point is that the very beginning when Haru decides that he wants to get a tattoo is actually on his birthday. That is why the chapter name includes June – it’s just the one day but it is pretty important.
> 
> [This](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/c9/a6/35/c9a635c48e184e6f46d8f307c3a1b927.jpg) is what I had in mind when I was writing about Haru’s tattoo. Like I actually found the perfect tattoo first and then incorporated it into the story. Except that it is much smaller because it is on his neck, not his back but ah! It is so pretty.
> 
> And that is it for the first part! I hope that you guys enjoyed it at least a little bit and thank you for reading this far.


	2. September - November

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our poor boys suffer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was really blown away by the responses that I got to the first part and may have been a little overzealous in my replies (sorry about that, by the way). I really hope that you all enjoy the second part just as much – things are starting to happen and shift and we’re getting somewhere now. But that is all that I am going to say about it.
> 
> Much like the first part, still unbeta’d but once again, I tried to catch everything.

Makoto used to think himself a fast reader. Used to. There had been a time when he could devour a book in two days; on one memorable occasion, he had read a full length novel in only hours, sucked into the story so much that his mother had to physically drag him to the dinner table. But that was back then, and this was now. Now, he could barely read four chapters in three hours, information too dry for him to really retain any of it.

Of course, that was how it had been  _before_  he’d finally met Haruka. Ever since that afternoon in the tattoo parlour, blue eyes invaded his thoughts at the worst times. He still managed to get all of his homework done on time so his grades didn’t suffer, but it took him twice as long to complete it. All that Makoto could do was wonder about his soulmate: what he was doing, how he was feeling and as embarrassing as it was, whether or not he ever thought about his tattoo artist. It wasn’t uncommon to find him sitting at the table, books open and strewn around him but ultimately forgotten as he gazed off into space, a tiny smile tugging at his lips. 

And things only got worse after the trip to the aquarium. Because he had talked to him, really talked to him, found out more about his likes and dislikes and aspirations for the future and Nanase Haruka became less of just “his soulmate” and more into a real person. An incredible person, one who amazed Makoto beyond words, but a real person nonetheless. It brought Makoto so much joy to know that someone like Haruka existed in this world, even if he wasn’t aware of their true connection. Just knowing that he was alive and breathing and  _living_  out there…Makoto’s heart skipped a beat just thinking about it, sometimes.

His heart also skipped a beat or two whenever he realized that somewhere along the line, he and Haruka had actually become friends. He supposed that it was only natural, seeing as they apparently ran in the same social circles, but that did not stop the swell in his chest whenever he looked over and saw Haruka across from him, whether it was eating, studying or nodding off as Rin told one of his elaborately long stories again. His days had changed from losing hours daydreaming about Haruka to actually being in his presence more often than he was not, if he was going to be honest with himself. 

It was nice.  

It felt right.

Briefly, Makoto wondered if Haruka felt the same way before arching his back and stretching, sighing in satisfaction as he feels the knobs of his spine crack.

“That’s disgusting.”

Makoto glances at Haruka and shakes his head at the teasing smirk on the other man’s face. “Sorry, I’m just so tired. Ah, and I’ve been studying these few chapters for the past four hours straight, I feel like my brain is about to leak out of my ears. Please Haru, please let’s take a break.” He pulls the most woeful expression he can muster, knowing that Haruka is powerless against his puppy dog eyes and not afraid to use it to his advantage.

He tries to hold out for as long as he can, Makoto can tell, but Haruka finally nods and turns away, pushing his books further up the table. “Are you in pain?”

Eyebrows draw together in confusion before Makoto realizes what Haruka means and he lifts his shoulders in a helpless shrug. He was a big guy, tall and broad, and while his stature had never been a problem for him, hunching over a desk for hours on end proved to be hard on his back muscles. “A little, but it should go away once I take a hot shower.”

Haruka silently shakes his head and crawls away from the table, shifting closer to Makoto’s side. “That will take too long.” 

He leaves it at that, but Makoto has gotten shockingly adept at understanding Haru-speak in a very short time and can tell that he’s worried. Which is heartwarming in it’s own way and Makoto has to fight with himself to keep a smile from blooming across his face. Instead, he shakes his head again, trying to dispel Haruka’s unease. “I’ll be fine. This isn’t the first time it’s happened and with all of the work I still have left to do, it won’t be the last. Don’t worry, Haru.”

He means to reassure Haruka that he will be okay but his words seem to do the exact opposite. Black eyebrows furrow and lips draw together in a pout, barely noticeable when Haruka says, “That’s no good.” A blush starts to seep across his cheeks and Makoto is endeared by the sight, a soft, fluttery feeling erupting in the middle of his chest. But before he can say anything else, a hand is prodding against his chest, pushing him back and somehow knowing what Haruka wants, Makoto rolls over so that he is lying down on his stomach, head cushioned on his arms. 

It’s his turn to blush now as he realizes Haruka’s intentions and he lifts himself up to his elbows, craning his neck to look behind him. “Haru,” he says softly, and blue eyes snap up to meet his, looking more guarded than Makoto can ever remember. “I’m okay. Really. You don’t have to do this. I even feel better already, so let’s just get something to eat and go back to studying, okay?”

But if there is one thing that he has learnt about his soulmate, it is that he is as stubborn as they come, so Makoto is unsurprised when Haruka cracks his knuckles and swings one leg over his hips, settling atop the small of his back. Time seems to stand still as Makoto realizes just how much he would enjoy lying in a position  _very_  similar to this one and then abruptly starts again as he stifles a gasp, feels fingers sharply poking at the muscles between his shoulder blades.

“Ow! Haru! What are you doing?”

“Massaging.”

If Makoto listens closely enough, he can almost hear the furrow of Haruka’s brows, the way that he’s biting his lip, the look of intense concentration that he wears whenever he is trying his best. He can tell this without looking, does not have to see Haruka to know exactly what he is doing because he simply knows. And it is the most adorable thing in the world, the way that Haruka is trying so hard to help him, but it is unfortunately also one of the most painful things that Makoto has ever experienced. So without any warning to the man currently sitting on his back, he turns over quickly and is unable to stop his laughter when Haruka slides off of him and plops on the floor, blue eyes wide in his panic. They gradually narrow as he seems to have figured out what happened and before Makoto even has a chance to apologize, hands are slapping him all over his chest and stomach.

“Makoto!”

“Stop! Stop, I’m sorry – ah! Haru!”

He manages to catch Haruka’s hands mid-slap, wrapping his fingers around the other man’s slender wrists. “I’m sorry,” he says again, soft laughter punctuating his words, green eyes shining with mirth. “Your fingers are really pokey, Haru-chan.”

He huffs and turns his head away.

Still chuckling, Makoto releases his wrists and watches in amusement as Haruka pulls them back almost immediately. He can just make out that the shell of Haruka’s ear, half hidden by inky black hair, is glowing a bright red and he just shakes his head fondly before stretching his arms out over his head again, back lifting off of the ground as a satisfied little squeak escapes him. The massage did not help much, but lying flat on his back is working wonders for getting the kinks out. It’s a short-term fix, but one that Makoto can live with.

“Ne, Haru?”

“Hmm.”

“Can I ask something?”

“Mmm.”

“Why a jellyfish?”

The question gives him pause and Makoto worries for a second that he’s accidentally said something wrong, but then Haruka rolls onto his side and uses the bend of his elbow as a makeshift pillow, legs kicking out in an effort to get more comfortable, and he lets out a quiet breath of relief. Something jostles his leg, startling him, and he looks down to find Haruka’s foot resting against his knee, toes flexing against the denim. A soft smile touches Makoto’s lips and he reaches out, fingers already smoothing the hair away from Haruka’s face before he catches on to what he’s doing and he instantly freezes, green eyes open wide.

The look that Haruka directs towards him is equally shocked, but there’s also something else hidden in the depths of his eyes that Makoto has never seen before, can’t quite put a name to. Part of him wants to think – hopes, even – that Haruka can feel something more than friendship for him, can feel even a  _fraction_  of what Makoto feels for him, but he squashes it down as quickly as he can. It made no sense to get caught up in fantasies like those; at the end of the day, Makoto would feel nothing but disappointment. It was better to steer clear of those thoughts altogether while he still could.

“Sorry,” he says quietly. He pulls his hand back and rests it under his cheek, can feel the heat of the blood rushing beneath his skin. 

Haruka does not reply, moving onto his back and staring up at the ceiling. “I like it,” he says instead, voice low. “The jellyfish. Sousuke says that it fits me and I remember…when I showed him the picture the first time he looked like he approved of it but for me, I just like it.”                                 

There is a note in his tone that Makoto cannot explain; a sort of wistfulness that tells him that Haruka wants to say more,  _feels_  more, but does not know where to start. It’s the same feeling that he gets whenever Nagisa and Rei get curious and ask him about his soulmate: tongue heavy with feelings that cannot be put into words, chest tight with the sheer magnitude of his emotions. He’s sure that if he ever looked in a mirror when trying to explain how Haruka made him feel, he would be greeted with the same expression the other man is wearing right now. The thought sends a shot of ice down his spine and he suppresses a shiver.

“You know,” he says, lining up his words carefully. “I’ve read that jellyfish – as a tattoo of course – symbolize acceptance and faith both in yourself and the world around you. Like…ah, sort of like this: they trust so much that everything will work out that they just float around and live life happily the way that they are. No worries, you know? They’re just…themselves; able to be who they are and do whatever they want. Free. When you think of it like that, it kind of sounds like you, huh? Maybe that’s what Sousuke meant.” He studies Haruka’s profile, voice nearly a whisper when he adds, “I guess I’m a little jealous of that, actually.”

Sharp, blue eyes pin him down so fast that he feels like he cannot move and in his surprise, he draws an involuntary breath. 

“Don’t be,” Haruka says. His voice is so soft that despite the sliver of distance between them, Makoto has to strain to hear him, more delicate and fond than has ever come from him before. “Jealous. Makoto is…fine the way he is.”

There are no words to describe the feeling that erupts in Makoto’s chest when he hears that, no way to determine just how much they mean to him. It seems like every time he thinks that he has Haruka figured out, he discovers another side to the man, an additional facet that shines just as brightly as the others. To Makoto, who has tried so hard for the majority of his life to be the best that he could be for his parents, his friends, his siblings but never for himself, hearing those words are like a blessing. Something that he’s needed to hear his whole life, but never had to chance to because nobody ever realized. They would have touched his heart if anybody had said them, but they somehow mean so much more now that they are coming from his soulmate. 

“Yeah?”

He nods.

“Haru — “

But Makoto’s words instantly die on his tongue when he notices the pained look on Haruka’s face, visible for a split second before the other man has rolled onto his side, turned away this time. He mashes his lips together and moves just a touch closer, taking care so that he does not accidentally spook Haru. The blush has migrated from the tips of his ears all the way down to the back of his neck, the lightest of pinks hiding behind stark black. Makoto itches to reach out and smooth his fingertips across the flushed skin, to bring some comfort and chase away whatever has elicited this sort of reaction from the man. But that is something that he cannot do, so instead he clenches his hand into a fist, voice wary as he asks, 

“Haru?”

“You’re kind,” comes the answer. “You’re nice. You tried to pay for my ticket at the aquarium and it seems like you genuinely care about everybody you meet. You would take your siblings back presents on  _your_  birthday. You know what you want and you work hard for it and yet it always seems like you are surprised when you succeed. You would stop to play with a stray cat even though we’re already twenty minutes late for lunch and you know that Rin is unbearable when he’s been waiting. You would study for four hours with an aching back and then ask if I would be okay to take a break instead of just going ahead and doing it. You’re  _good_. There’s nothing wrong with you. So don’t be jealous.”

Each word is said deliberately, almost as if Haruka had to fight with himself to get them to sound like how he means them to, but Makoto barely notices, overcome with a rush of warm affection for the person before him, the person who is desperately trying to hide his entire head in the crook of his arm so that Makoto would not notice his blush. A bit too late for that, Makoto thinks, fingers uncurling so that he can rest his hand gently on Haruka’s shoulder. He can feel the muscles jump at the contact, but he gently rubs his hand back and forth until Haruka relaxes under his touch, whole body sagging.

“Haru,” he says for a third time, and blue eyes seek out his own, just peeking over Haruka’s shoulder, escape plan already in place. Everything about the picture is so cute that Makoto inexplicably wants to cry, but he clenches his jaw to keep the tears at bay. There is so much that he wants to say to Haruka, so much that he has always wanted to say, but nothing is coming out. He opens his mouth uselessly, gaping like a fish, and can see the moment when confusion starts to seep into Haruka’s gaze but still, he’s coming up blank. So he settles for an inadequate, “Thank you,” instead and pulls his hand away quickly when Haruka’s eyes widen, flopping flat onto his back once more.

The air between them is charged; a far cry from the comfort and ease that had enveloped them as they studied and Makoto cannot help but feel like it is his fault. After all, he was the one who harboured feelings towards Haruka. He was the one who had set them on this path when he’d brushed Haruka’s hair off of his face, the one who could not seem to keep his hands to himself no matter what the situation was. If Haru was uncomfortable now (and it surely seems like it, seeing as he was still trying to burrow into the ground) then it was all Makoto’s doing – it had to be. A thread of guilt, strong like steel, winds its way around his heart, refusing to let go and he licks his lips in defeat as he stands up.

The movement sparks a reaction out of Haruka, who finally lifts his head and shifts so that he is looking up at Makoto. He opens his mouth as if to speak but Makoto beats him to the punch, signature head tilt in place. “I’ll go and make some tea and then we can get back to studying, right? There’s still a couple chapters that I want to go over before my test next week.”

He does not wait for a response, making a mad dash for the kitchen and sagging against the counter once he is sure that he is out of sight, fingers gripping the countertop so tightly that his knuckles whiten. He feels torn in two completely different directions; half of him yearning to continue spending time with Haruka, the other half constantly worried about whether or not he is pushing his luck. Or even worse, the boundaries. And that is all that it takes for Makoto to make up his mind – as much as he loves being with Haru, as much as he loves Haruka himself, none of it means anything if he winds up going too far and making him uncomfortable. So there was only one solution; Makoto was going to have to find some way to put his feelings aside and put some space between them. Not a lot, maybe barely any, but enough so that there was no chance of him getting caught up in the moment again and doing something stupid.

“So yeah, that’s what I’ll do.” Makoto begins to murmur to himself as he sets up the tea. He takes down his favourite mug and sets it on the counter, lightly tracing the nicks around the edge of the handle with his fingernail, anything to shake the nerves out of his system. “It should be fine, it should be good, it should be easy. It is doable and I can do this.” 

Hopefully.

 

* * *

 

Haruka does not know how he manages to get himself into these sorts of situations. 

Except that, truthfully, he kind of does. 

“Rin,” he growls. The  _thud_  of his overnight bag hitting the floor resonates around the room and two pairs of eyes – one red, one green – turn to look at him instantly. The former glints with amusement, the corners crinkled enough to second the motion, while the latter looks nothing short of apologetic, as if this was his fault. Haruka shakes his head at Makoto, trying to tell him not to worry, before focusing once again on Rin and the smug, sharp-toothed grin that the he was sending his way. 

“Haru,” he replies, lifting his chin.

The door opens just then, cutting Haruka off, and Sousuke steps into the room. He seems to assess the situation, eyes landing on the single bed in the middle of the room before a smile touches his lips and he shakes his head in amusement. “Rin,” he says, but the reaction that he gets is completely different from the one that Haruka got just moments before. Though his eyes still gleam, he looks at Sousuke proudly, hand lifting to comb through his bangs. 

“It was the cheapest this way,” Rin says, Sousuke nodding sagely at his side.

And Haruka wants to believe him. In fact, he  _would_  believe him if he did not remember a conversation that he’d had with Rin not even a month ago. And despite knowing that everything that he said would undoubtedly find its way to Sousuke as well, Haruka had unloaded all of his confusion onto his friend, letting it all out in a way that, looking at it now, he could safely say was pretty embarrassing. He had barely felt like he could look them both in the eye without cringing for days after it happened. 

But none of that even compared to the way that Makoto made him feel. It was strange, scary; a completely visceral reaction to the man who was rapidly becoming his best friend. He felt like he could never sit still when Makoto was in the room with him, every muscle in his body tense and ready to go at the slightest touch. His mind was never at ease; his chest constantly felt like it was too tight, too small to contain how hard his heart beat at the sight of him. He had nearly torn his hair out as he tried to describe all of this to Rin, only growing more frustrated when he found that nothing he said seemed to do his feelings justice. But by some miracle, Rin had understood perfectly what he’d been trying to say, voice almost as sympathetic as his smile when he’d tried to tell Haruka that it was completely understandable and only natural and although the words had confused him, there was no doubt that they had also soothed the ache nestled just behind his sternum.

Still, he had regarded him suspiciously as he asked, “How do you know?” and Rin had let out a long suffering sigh before staring at Haruka so intently that his blood began to crawl in the vaguely unpleasant way that he had long associated with unwanted attention. Unconsciously, he shrank back into his seat, absentmindedly rubbing at the tattoo on his neck. 

“We’re friends, right?”

Haruka blinked slowly and that was answer enough for the redhead, who just nodded in satisfaction and leaned back in his chair, the picture of relaxation.

“Then trust me.”

But clearly, that is easier said than done. Especially when he remembers the tactics used by Rin to lure him into this trip: promises of water and a distinct omission of the fact that Makoto would be in attendance as well. Things had been strange between them ever since that day in the apartment; Makoto had come back with two steaming mugs of tea but his smile had not quite met his eyes and the tone of his voice suggested that he was conflicted over something. Of course he had tried to hide it but Haruka knew him well enough to know that he was struggling with something. But Makoto hadn’t offered up any explanations and Haruka decided to just leave it alone, knowing that he would crack and spill the problem eventually. He hated seeing him so troubled but respected his right to privacy all the same, doing his best to ignore the pang of worry that he felt whenever Makoto pulled away from him. It had finally reached the point where the two hadn’t seen each other for days – something that made Haruka inexplicably uneasy – before Rin decided to make him tag along on his and Sousuke’s weekend trip to Disneyland. It was not until he refused that Rin amended the plans, adding a day at DisneySea into the mix and Haruka readily agreed.

And although he’d been loath to show it, he had actually been excited. It had been a while since he’d spent a day out with Rin and Sousuke, even longer since he’d enjoyed going out to an amusement park, and he’d been ready to let go of his worry and try to have a good time. A task which proved to be impossible when they met up with Makoto at the station before they truly set out for the parks, unfortunately. The shared train seat was quiet for the majority of the trip down, tension thick in the air and it did not escape Haruka’s notice that Rin and Sousuke kept exchanging weird glances in front of them. He wanted to throttle them; they knew how torn up about all of this he was and yet still, they invited Makoto along with them. 

It didn’t make any  _sense_. 

Seeing as it was a weekend trip, Rin had booked rooms for them in a hotel close to the parks; two rooms, which Haruka took to mean at least three beds. It would be crazy to think that Sousuke and Rin would do anything less than share, but he assumed that he and Makoto would have a bed each. After all, his conflicted feelings aside, it was not like  _they_  were soulmates. But he’d never had the chance to check because after they’d gotten their room keys, Sousuke had taken all the bags to his and Rin’s room, leaving the others in the lobby before they left for DisneySea.

And Haruka had been foolish enough to think that everything was sorted; that he would be able enjoy his day in the park until he felt like he would drop from exhaustion and then crawl into bed once back at the hotel and that would be that. Except that was not the case because there was only one bed in the room he and Makoto shared. And to be honest, he wouldn’t have even minded sharing a bed with the other man if not for two things: the strange awkward tension mounting between them and the forced proximity that came with sleeping next to each other. If he woke up in the morning somehow cuddled into Makoto’s broad chest, Haruka was sure that he would die on the spot.

“Rin,” Haruka says again, but there is an edge of defeat in his voice. Honestly, he just wants to go to sleep and not wake up until everything is back to normal.

“Haru,” Rin replies. He shoots him a peculiar look; Haruka knows that he is meant to decipher something in it but he has no clue what Rin is trying to tell him. That fact alone makes irritated and he bites his lip hard enough to draw blood.

“You know,” Makoto cuts in just then, and everyone turns to look at him. His green eyes are trained on where Haruka is worrying his lower lip between his teeth and he abruptly releases it. Makoto looks up, shoulders sagging in what could only be relief, though Haruka has a hard time understanding why. “If this is a problem then I can just sleep on the floor. It doesn’t bother me.”

“Makoto,” Sousuke says, shaking his head lightly but Haruka cuts him off before he can continue. “No.”

“No?” Makoto sounds surprised, maybe a little bit anxious, like he unnerves him and Haruka  _hates_  it.

“No,” he repeats. Then, voice softer, “The floor is…it’s okay. We can share the bed.”

“Yeah?”

He nods.

The smile that breaks out over Makoto’s face should be illegal and Haruka finds himself turning away, breathing deeply to quell his rapid heartbeat.

“Anyways, we should probably head out.” Rin fists one hand in the back of Sousuke’s shirt and uses the other to hook his thumb over his shoulder, pointing to the door. “We should wake up bright and early so that we can clock some serious time at Disneyland and then go back home tomorrow night. We’ll meet you down at the lobby in the morning, say around eight?” 

Makoto and Haruka glance at each other and nod in tandem, the sight making Rin raise his eyebrows. He lets out a tiny chuckle and then drags Sousuke out of the room, hand falling away from his shoulders as they reach the door to rummage around in the back pocket of Sousuke’s jeans. The door shuts behind them, but not before Haruka catches a glimpse of Rin pulling Sousuke’s phone out of his pocket, a sound of triumph falling from his lips, a gentle fondness in the teal gaze directed at him. 

He swallows past the lump in his throat and the sound would be audible if not for the click of the door automatically locking. What would it be like, he wonders, to be so in love with a person that it made you feel lucky to just be alive? His gaze touches upon Makoto for a split second but he turns away, rolling his lips together tightly.

Now really was not the time to think about that.

Not five seconds later, Makoto’s cell phone chimes. He pulls it out to check the message and promptly begins to choke on air, his face lighting up so bright that Haruka can practically feel the heat from where he is standing across the room, pulling down the sheets. He holds one of the pillows in his hand, brows drawing together as he regards Makoto before deciding that he was way too tired to deal with this tonight. Besides, he was still sputtering so loudly, fingers racing across his phone keys as he composes a response, that Haruka doubts he would be heard anyway.

\-- 

The night passes without incident. At one point, Haruka has vague recollections of waking up cuddled into Makoto, legs tangled together, head tucked against his collarbone, but the memories are so fuzzy that he is convinced that he dreamt the whole thing up. Which is a problem in itself, but he has all the time in the world to panic over that once they get back home at the end of the day. When he wakes up in the morning, though, Haruka is happy to see that he and Makoto are as far apart as humanly possible on the bed, the blanket and a pillow bundled up between them. But there is also a strange feeling gnawing at him and for reasons that he cannot explain, he feels upset at the distance between them. And then anger for feeling that way and mounting frustration because he cannot understand why he is going through this cycle and it all culminates in him becoming a mix between surly and grumpy for the rest of the morning. 

Makoto does little more than shoot him worried looks every few minutes and Haruka frowns at the way his heart leaps at the show of concern. Rin, on the other hand, takes one look at his face when they meet for breakfast and barks out a laugh, pulling his hair back into a messy ponytail as he addresses Makoto. 

“What’s wrong with him?”

“Rin.”

“What? No seriously, Sousuke, look at him. He looks like somebody just drained the pool or something. Haru, really, what’s wrong?”

But Haruka just turns away, stabbing into his rice with such ferocity that all four of them grimace.

The day continues in that same vein – Haruka not telling anybody what the matter is, but acting aloof all the same. And while Rin and Sousuke seem to take it in stride, acting as if nothing is really out of the ordinary, Makoto keeps on looking at him like a kicked puppy. While the look does nothing to help him out of his confusion, it does make him feel a little bad for how he is acting. They came to Disneyland to have a good time and relax and although most of his friends do not seem to care, he is the one making things difficult.

And if he’s being honest, he really,  _really_  does not like the defeated look on Makoto’s face.

He gets his chance to apologize near the end of the day. Sousuke somehow manages to convince them to go through the Haunted Mansion, although based on the level of Rin’s excitement, Haruka would hazard a guess that Sousuke was just sent out to do the dirty work. He doesn’t mind; Tokyo Disneyland may be sorely lacking in the water department but that does not mean that Haruka is uninterested in seeing all that it has to offer. So he thanks the gods that Rin and Sousuke are occupied amongst themselves and sidles a little bit closer to Makoto, pitching his voice lower than usual.

“I’m sorry.”

Makoto nearly jumps out of his skin, a strangled little yelp catching in his throat. The sight makes Haruka smile; when Makoto turns to face him, he is met with Haruka trying to hide the curl of his lips behind his fist. Red spreads across his cheeks, his voice just as quiet as he replies, “What for, Haru-chan?”

A little crinkle appears between his eyes at the nickname but he lets it slide, setting his attentions on the larger problem here. He thinks that it is fairly obvious why he is sorry so he ignores the question in favour of glaring at the fists clenched tightly by Makoto’s sides, grip so tight that Haruka can see the tiny bones shift and flex under the skin. Without thinking, he reaches out and takes one fist into both of his hands, smoothing it out so that Makoto’s palm lays flat. Tiny crescents where the nails dug in through the skin are highly visible and Haruka lightly traces one with the tip of his finger, brows furrowed even deeper. The nails have not actually broken any skin, but he can see some places where it would not have taken much for the blood to start flowing. To these, he pays special attention, tracing and retracing them with care.

“Um,” Makoto squeaks and Haruka is brought out of his stupor, dropping his hands to his pockets quickly. He looks off to the side, sees Rin and Sousuke studying them with interest, shifts his gaze to the right and tilts his head down, completely missing the reverent way that Makoto stares at his palm, eyes following the same path as Haruka’s fingertips just moments before.

“Sorry,” he says again.

“N-no, don’t be.” Makoto looks up and shakes his head with frantic, aborted movements, almost as if he is trying to get water out of his ears. “It’s okay.”

The line inches forward and they both step up; in doing so, Haruka inches a little bit closer to Makoto and knocks their arms together. The touch is gentle, almost nonexistent, but Makoto turns to him with both a shaky smile and a question in his gaze. Haruka almost shakes his head, tries to play off the situation as an accident, but from the corner of his eye he can see where Makoto’s hands are slowly curling into fists again and everything in him wants them to stop. He does not know why he is so bothered by this nor what he would do if the nails manage to break the skin this time – all he knows is that he doesn’t want Makoto to look anything less than happy. Ever. So he says the first thing that comes to mind and then promptly wants to smack himself in the face, maybe rattle his brain a little bit. 

“I think that I dreamt about you last night.”

“Eh?!”

“You don’t have to be scared.”

Makoto’s eyes widen. “W-what?”

“Of the ghosts,” he clarifies, cheeks tinted. “You don’t have to be scared. Of the ghosts. Or…anything. But the ghosts are not. Real. So you don’t have to be scared of them.”

“Ah.”

Makoto’s shoulders relax but Haruka can plainly see that they do so not from relief, but disappointment. He frowns, once again frustrated with his inability to follow what is going on around him. He knows that Rin and Sousuke have been acting strangely ever since he got his tattoo but they never explain to him why, always evading the question and changing the subject. He knows that Makoto has something to do with it too; he gets caught up in far too many whispered meetings with the other two for that not to be the case. And sometimes Haruka catches Makoto looking at him like he holds all of the answers, like just being around him makes everything right in the world. He’s familiar with the feeling because he sometimes catches himself looking at Makoto the same way; both instances make his stomach twist itself in knots, nervous energy thrumming through him. 

But he does not  _understand_. And the more time that passes, the more he is beginning to think that he needs to.

 

* * *

 

Mornings were not made for classes. 

That has always been Makoto’s philosophy. He was an early riser for sure, but he preferred to keep his mornings low key and relaxed, stretched out in his bed and drinking a mug of steaming coffee as he flipped through a newspaper; the kind of things that made his siblings call him  _grandpa_  and his parents tease him about being an  _old soul_. But Makoto knew himself and he knew that if he tried to pack too many things into a short space of time, he would end up frazzled and frantic and probably running out the door without his pants on at some point. It was not a future that he wanted to see.

Which was why he could not understand exactly  _what_  he had been thinking when he’d signed up for the 8:30 am class on Child, Adolescent and Adult Development in Education – a little bit heavy for so early in the morning, in his opinion.

He stumbles out of the lecture hall, third cup of coffee clutched in his right hand, left plowing through his hair tiredly and almost bumps into someone standing around the corner. “Oh, sorry,” he says, fighting to keep his eyes open long enough to find a place where he can sit down and squeals in surprise when he feels cool fingers wrap around his wrist.

“Makoto.”

Haruka’s voice is both a soothing balm and a shot of adrenaline; Makoto relaxes instantly, chest heaving with the force of his sigh, and simultaneously snaps awake, green eyes wide and alert within seconds. He lowers his arm, nearly spilling his coffee all over himself but halting his movements at the last minute, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. It’s too much happening at once, too much stimulation for his tired brain to handle: two hours of information hammered into his head, wrists sore from writing notes, watery coffee that has done nothing to wake him up and now the unexpected appearance of Haruka, his incredibly beautiful soulmate…who should actually be at his  _own_  school instead of lurking around outside the lecture hall. Saying that he needs a moment would be an understatement.

“Ah, Haru!” He has a feeling that his response comes out too late to be considered natural, a suspicion that is confirmed when Haruka neglects to reply, studying Makoto with narrowed eyes instead.

“Come on.” 

Haruka is pulling him along before Makoto can react, his tired state making it incredibly easy to be manhandled.

“Haru! Where are we going?”

No reply.

Makoto almost trips on a crack in the sidewalk but Haruka’s grip on his wrist somehow manages to keep him upright; he looks around and belatedly realizes that they are outside, off of campus and well on their way down the street. When had they gotten so far out? More importantly, where was Haruka taking him?

His mind was spinning.

“ _Haru_ ,” he says, digging his heels into the sidewalk and finally, Haruka stops. He looks over his shoulder at Makoto, one eyebrow quirked in question, lips downturned in a frown as a harried salaryman bumps into him when he rushes past.

“Look,” he says and more than anything else, he sounds exasperated. Tired. Worried. This is definitely the wrong time and the wrong place, but Makoto is awake enough to realize that his heart is warming in his chest, a flood of sensation travelling all the way down to his fingertips. His skin feels like it is burning under Haruka’s touch and it feels so good that it is almost painful; he gently extracts his wrist and tucks his hand into the pocket of his hoodie instead. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course, Haru-chan.”

“Then come with me.” 

Makoto could spend his entire life studying colours and he would still never be able to name every shade of blue in Haruka’s eyes. Especially now, when they are wide and beseeching, almost liquid in their urgency. He is powerless against those eyes, no use trying to convince himself differently. He tilts his head, smiling softly as he replies, “Alright.”

Haruka shuffles his feet, seemingly satisfied with this answer. “Alright.” He adjusts the strap of his bag across his chest and keeps ahold of it as he resumes walking, the quick glance he sends over his shoulder a clear invitation to follow. More than happy to comply, Makoto quickens his pace so that they are walking side by side, shoulders brushing every few steps. The silence is comfortable, companionable, and Makoto finds that he is relaxing more and more the farther they walk, a wave of calm crashing over him.

“You look tired.”

“Yeah?” Makoto rubs the back of his head, laughing softly. “Well, I guess I am. I was up late studying every night for the past week and I  _almost_  overslept this morning because I forgot to set my alarm but luckily Nagisa dropped a frying pan on his toe this morning – not! Not that I’m happy he got hurt or anything but he’s okay and I managed to get up for school, so everything worked out in the end.”

“For a test?”

“Finals in a few weeks. But I wanted to get studying earlier so I’m more prepared. I’m going home for a couple days next week and I know that means that I’ll be giving up some time to my brother and sister, so I thought that if I started earlier, I should be okay.” Makoto scratches his cheek, unable to hide his smile from breaking out. “I really don’t want to have to give up the trip, so I hope this works out.”

“You shouldn’t overwork yourself.” 

And suddenly, it is like everything just stops. He thinks that it is amazing how Haruka can just look at him and be able to tell and even more, how he knows exactly what to say. Because he’s right; Makoto knows that he has been pushing himself. He knows that dragging himself out of bed to get ready for class this morning was more of a chore than it should have been, and he knows that pretty soon, his brain is definitely going to over-fry if he keeps working with this same crazy momentum. But he cannot help it; he needs to get all of these things done. He needs to keep his grades up so that he doesn’t lose his scholarship, he needs to see his family because he misses them and more importantly, he knows that they miss him too. And he needs to go home because it is his twenty-third birthday and the only thing that has been on his mind for the past few days is how badly he wants a slice of his mother’s famous chocolate cake. Or maybe the whole thing – he hasn’t decided yet.

But the amazing thing is that there is nothing special about  _what_  Haruka says, rather more  _how_  he says it. Nagisa and Rei both told him the same thing, their words born from worry. He can still remember the glimmer in Nagisa’s eyes, for once not mischievous but pleading. Sousuke as well, but it came out more like a warning, although Makoto knew that he never intended it that way. And the whole effect had been lost when Rin had told him the same, mainly because Makoto had played it off like a joke and Rin had been all too happy to follow his lead. But with Haruka, it was somehow different than that. He did not mean it in any other way than what it sounded like: a suggestion, open to being taken or being ignored. But that was not to say that Haruka wasn’t worried; Makoto could see that he was. He could see it in the furrow of his eyebrows as he studied the bags under his eyes, the way his back stiffened when he had first noticed Makoto stumbling, even the way that his fingers tensed while listening to how much time Makoto spent studying, especially when compared to his dwindling sleep schedule.

Having been caught up in his musings, Makoto fails to notice when Haruka makes a sharp right. He continues ahead for a couple steps before he realizes that he is walking alone and halts to a stop in confusion. “Haru?”

“Makoto,” he hears, and looks around until he finds Haruka standing just through the entrance to another university campus. He stands there gaping for a moment – had they really been walking for a full hour?  _Where_  has his head been lately? – but hurries forward when he notices the impatient set to Haruka’s jaw. It is only as he gets closer that Makoto realizes the tips of his ears are red as well and his curiosity piques.

“Ne, Haru? What are we doing here?”

“I want to show you something.” He takes hold of Makoto’s shirt, pulling him forward as they make their way across campus. They’re moving so quickly that Makoto can hardly take anything in, he’s too busy trying to keep on his feet and also memorize the exact placement of the mole behind Haruka’s left ear, directly above where Makoto knows his soulmate mark to be. He almost reaches out and brushes his finger across it but Haruka stops just then, saving him from making a fool of himself. It is tough to decide what he feels more strongly – gratitude or disappointment. 

“Here.” Haruka lets go of Makoto’s shirt but does not move from his side, his pinkie finger twitching as he waits for some sort of reaction. 

Makoto blinks, the door in front of them looking dark and formidable in the way that it is heavy and closed, cutting them off from whatever is on the other side, and feels his face twist in confusion. “…What?”

“My school does this thing around exams. It’s hard to explain. Just go in and see for yourself.”

Two sounds catch Makoto’s attention just then, loud yips and what sounds like the soft whirring of a vacuum underwater, and he forgets what he wanted to ask, already walking towards the door as if in some kind of trance. The sounds are a familiar comfort and he’s frustrated that he is unable to place it while at the same time, eager to step into the room and see why Haruka brought him all the way down here in the first place.

He gets his answer as soon as he opens the door, when he is almost bowled over by two sets of little furry legs. They jump all over him, pawing at his pant legs, pert little noses finding a home in the sliver of skin exposed above his socks. Makoto lets out a delighted laugh, trying to move away while at the same time, not really trying at all. He can literally feel all of the tension draining from his body; the real tension, the bone deep weariness that he has been carrying around for so long, it is hard to tell where he ends and it begins. It's different than the fear of failing or not being good enough, the constant pain that he feels at having to hide their true connection from Haruka. The weight of it is heavier, the burden all-consuming and Makoto is so used to toting it around on his back that he feels incomplete for a second, off balance, like he has to readjust his centre of gravity to accommodate for the loss. 

“This is incredible, Haru, really. Thank you for bringing me here.” 

One kitten pounces on him as soon as he sinks to his knees, clinging to his thigh and wriggling until it manages to pull itself up completely. Then it promptly curls into a little ball, flattens its ears and settles in for a nap. Makoto uses one finger to gently stroke the soft black fur, careful not to neglect the sleeping kitten while at the same time rubbing his thumb along the crown of another’s head. Its tongue darts out, a startling flash of pink against grey, and shifts its position so that Makoto’s finger slips down to its chin. Simultaneously, both kittens let out purrs of complete and utter contentment. 

Haruka tries to bite back a smile at the sight but is unsuccessful; Makoto’s cheeks flame when he realizes that the look of gentle fondness is directed at him and not the kittens, as he had initially thought. He takes a moment to catch his breath, completely overcome by the events of the day. If he was not up to his knees in puppies and kittens, Haru standing right by his side, Makoto is sure that he would break down in tears, all of the stress finally catching up with him. But he could stand to wait and have his mental breakdown later, in the privacy of his room, under his covers, homework undoubtedly piled up high at the foot of this bed. For right now, their furry little friends were doing their job remarkably well; it was impossible for Makoto to remember the last time he had felt so at ease.

“Feel better?” 

There is no time to marvel at how adept Haruka has become in reading him; before he even has a chance to answer, a Dalmatian puppy bounds over to them and leaps onto his chest, foot nearly dislodging the sleeping kitten still held in his lap. Makoto lets out a quiet  _oomph_ but does not try to shake the dog off, letting him stick his wet nose right in the juncture where his neck meets his shoulder. He laughs softly, raising one hand to scratch behind the puppy’s ear.

Feeling ignored, the fluffy grey kitten paddles over to Haruka, resting little paws against his shins and trying to catch his attention. Makoto pays it little mind, wishing that he had enough hands to play with all of the animals at the same time but also knowing that he will never be able to do so. Instead, he takes the Dalmatian’s paw in his hand and pretends to shake it, the spark in his eyes just as dazzling as the puppy’s spotted coat. But when the plaintive meows only increase in volume, Makoto finally looks up to see what is happening, thumb rubbing absentmindedly over the velvety fur.

Haruka is looking down, two fingers idly playing with his shoelaces. He does not seem to be aware of the kitten batting at his leg or even of Makoto sitting directly across from him – he is lost somewhere in his head, a million miles away. His mouth moves quickly, shaping words that Makoto cannot follow, and he lifts one hand to his neck, trailing his fingers gently over the tattoo that rests there. The golden anchor seems to sparkle under his fingertips, so faintly that Makoto is positive that the only reason he notices is because of the matching mark on his wrist.

“Haru?”

He snaps to attention right away, dropping his fingers from his neck and looking up at Makoto in one swift motion. Sensing his distraction, the kitten boldly climbs into his lap and begins walking along his legs, trying to move up towards his shoulders. For a moment, Makoto forgets what he wants to say, words drying up in his mouth when he catches sight of Haruka allowing the grey kitten to – quite literally – walk all over him. She rests her paws in Haruka’s dark hair, using them to pillow her head and yawns cutely, eyes slowly blinking to a close. At the same time, Haruka blinks in question at Makoto, silently asking why he called for him, and the whole picture is just so cute that Makoto almost feels like he doesn’t deserve to witness it.

“Makoto?”

“Ah, yes!” The sleeping kitten narrowly avoids getting stepped on as he repositions the puppy, his touch just as gentle as his voice when he continues, “I-I was just wondering. If you’d like to come with me. When I go back home, I mean. If you wanted to come and visit home with me. Not, of course, if you don’t want to! And you must have finals coming up too, so I really shouldn’t have asked, but…it’s up to you.” 

He can feel the heat radiating from his cheeks, feel the blood rushing underneath the skin and turns his head down, focusing on the sleeping kitten with such intensity that the puppy begins to whine, vying for his attention. “Sorry,” he whispers, bending low and touching their noses together, letting out a light chuckle as it begins to lap at his chin. The kitten shifts in his lap and lets out a low purr; its tail swishes and brushes against Makoto’s forearm, raising goose-bumps in its wake.

He does not know why he asked him that. He had meant to ask him what was wrong, where his mind had been, why he’d gotten so silent so suddenly – not if he wanted to accompany him on his trip home to visit his family. If Makoto had a free hand, he would face palm right about now, but since there are currently two animals making a home of his lap, he settles for just shaking his head and sighing. Haruka had looked so cute with the kitten on his head, their expressions eerily similar, and Makoto had found himself caught up in the moment and spoke without thinking.

He just wanted to spend as much time with Haruka as possible; as much as he was looking forward to seeing his family again, the thought of not being around his soulmate for a few days was making the constant ache in his chest flare up once more. It wasn’t that it was impossible for him to be away from Haruka – that wasn’t the case at all. Soulmates were not necessarily joined at the hip and although they  _preferred_  to be together, a few days apart was ordinary. Probably even healthy, if he was being honest. Makoto’s own father had gone away for business many times during his childhood and his mother had always been fine; likewise, he knew of times when Sousuke went out of town to visit his parents and Rin had to stay in school for practice. This, what Makoto was feeling right now, it was not a  _soulmate_  problem.

It was a  _Makoto_  problem.  _He_  was the one who did not want to be apart from Haruka for too long. And not because of anything creepy either, he just enjoyed spending time with him. Being around him, hanging out together. If that were all that he could do for the rest of his life, then Makoto would be able to die a happy man. But hopefully at some point far off in the future and with Haruka at his side – if he was lucky.

“I want to.”

“Hmm?” Makoto giggles as the puppy licks his nose, scrunching it up as he moves away to look over at Haruka, who has now taken the grey kitten from his head and is cradling it in his arms. One finger is rubbing tentative circles against its – her, from this angle Makoto can clearly see that the kitten is a her – chin, brows drawn together as he tries to get his words to come out right. “You what?”

Haruka glances to the side, biting the inside of his mouth. Even with the distance between them, Makoto can see the muscles in his jaw working. “I want to go with you.”

It is like sunlight itself is pouring into his chest, it feels so full and warm and  _overwhelming_ , it is  _overwhelming_  how happy something like this has made him. The force of his happiness makes it impossible for Haruka not a quirk a small smile back and Makoto did not think it was possible but his grin only widens, giddiness spilling from his lips in the form of laughter and he honestly cannot remember a time in his life when he felt this happy. “Really?”

A blank stare is the only answer he gets, but it is answer enough and he laughs some more, shaking his head. “Okay,” he says, biting his lip, trying and failing to stop smiling. He is starting to feel like an idiot and, based on the blush spreading across his cheeks, strongly suspects that Haruka is beginning to get embarrassed. “Okay, yeah. That sounds good.”

Haruka nods, the briefest twitch of his head, and then begins to play with the kitten in earnest, deft fingers scratching her belly as she meows in delight. The Dalmatian puppy, having lost interest, has moved over to somebody else on the other side of the room, leaving Makoto alone with the sleeping kitten, fur soft under his fingers as he smooths his hand down its back. It shifts in his lap, tongue curling out in a yawn before it settles again and Makoto cannot stop the laughter from bubbling out of him. Cannot help it as his whole body shakes with the force of it, cannot even offer Haruka anything more than a helpless shrug when he raises an eyebrow in question. But it’s tough to explain; he’s having a hard time understanding it himself.

His heart feels lighter than air, threatens to float right out of his chest if given the chance and he can’t do a single thing about it because he loves the feeling so much. It’s happiness. He’s happy. He is sitting in a room full of puppies and kittens, the promise of exams breathing down his neck, but Haruka is right beside him and he is  _happy_.

So he hoists the kitten higher, cuddling it close to his chest as it slowly wakes up, blinking sleepily, and allows himself to laugh more freely.

 

* * *

 

The differences between Tokyo and the calm, seaside town of Iwatobi are fairly obvious, Haruka thinks, transfixed by the clear blue sky. Puffs of white drift across the wide expanse before his very eyes; it’s extremely different from the skyscrapers that he is used to seeing whenever he looks out the window, the monotony of the buildings making the sky itself seem darker and dreary. The air, fresh and crisp, a hint of salt tickling his senses every time he breathes in, is different too. He feels as if he can never tire of the smell, inhaling deeply whenever he catches the chance, and finds no problem with the inevitable scent of fish. Actually, he rather kind of likes it, can definitely get used to it, and makes a mental note to have some mackerel during his stay, fresh enough for the fisherman to have caught it mere hours before he makes his purchase.  

There is a lot of time to catalogue these differences and get lost in his thoughts – Makoto has been standing outside of his house for the past ten minutes, hand raised as if ready to knock but not actually following through with the motion. Haruka stands by his side quietly, waiting. 

The silence stretches on.

Finally, Haruka sighs. “Makoto.”

He jumps slightly, fingers twitching. “Ah…yes?”

In lieu of an answer, Haruka reaches forward and knocks on the door himself, two sharp raps in quick succession. Bounding footsteps sound immediately and the door is wrenched open before Haruka even has a chance to drop his arm. 

“Onii-chan!” 

The cry seems to be in stereo and Haruka blinks before remembering that Makoto has  _twin_  younger siblings, one boy and one girl, both of whom are hanging off of their brother, their excited chatter tapering off as they become aware of his presence. Two large sets of eyes stare at him curiously and he has to admit that they are pretty cute for preteens, all big eyes and wide smiles, cheeks that have only just begun to lose their baby fat. Haruka has never been especially fond of children but for some reason, he has a feeling that he can make an exception for these two…and promptly refuses to put any further thought into why that would be the case.

The girl has her hair styled in two little half-pigtails, one of each side of her head, and the rest of it sways as she hops down from Makoto’s back, resting her hands on her hips. “Who’s this?” she demands, face set in a frown. 

The boy lets go of Makoto’s hand and steps closer to his sister as his shoulders deflate. It is easy to see that he is the more soft-spoken of the two and Haruka bites the inside of his lip as the little boy twists his fingers in the bottom of his shirt, plaintive eyes staring straight into Makoto’s soul. Haruka can tell; he is fidgeting by his side, a soft whine getting caught in the back of his throat as his siblings glare at him. “Aw, no fair! I thought that you were coming to spend time with us!”

“Yeah! But now you’ll be all distracted! Onii-chan, no fair!”

“What’s all this?” A new voice joins in before Makoto can begin to defend himself and moments later, a slight woman with long green hair appears in the doorway, wiping her hands in her apron. “Ren, Ran, where are your manners? Aren’t you going to invite them inside?” 

She’s scolding them in the way that only a mother can – with enough severity that there is no doubt that she would punish them if it comes down to it, but the tenderness underlying her words also make it clear that no matter what happens, she will never stop loving them. Although Mrs. Tachibana appears to be nothing like his own mother, Haruka recognizes the tone right away; it used to come out daily in his household growing up, usually when he would spend hours sitting in the bath, heedless of anybody else who needed to use it.

Makoto envelopes his mother in a hug the moment that they step over the threshold, squeezing her so tightly in his arms that he lifts her clean off of the ground. She lets out a startled laugh, somehow managing to pull her arms free and wrap them around her son, patting his back gently. Haruka can just make out a flash of gold coming from somewhere around her elbow, nothing more than a glimpse before it is gone. Resting his bag on the floor, he lifts his gaze just in time to catch the twins huddled together, whispering amongst themselves as they stare at him curiously.  

“Oh Makoto, I missed you too,” Mrs. Tachibana says, laughing slightly. She rests one hand against her chest once Makoto sets her down, fingers toying with the collar of her dress as she eyes Haruka pointedly, her expression knowing in a way that makes his confusion resurface. “But aren’t you forgetting something?”

Makoto follows his mother’s gaze and instantly colours. “Ah, right! Yes – Mom, Ren, Ran, this is Nanase Haruka. He’s my friend from school…sort of. We don’t actually go to the same school.” He runs his hand through his hair self-consciously and Haruka, sensing his distress, very lightly knocks their shoulders together. Makoto seems to relax instantly, sliding his hand down his neck until he is scratching at his collarbone. He shoots Haruka a soft smile. “And Haru-chan, this is my mother and my younger siblings, Ren and Ran. And…ah, where’s Dad?”

“He had to step out for a bit to help Tamura-san with something but he should be back soon, honey,” Mrs. Tachibana says. She smiles at Haruka and he can instantly see where Makoto gets his charm from; the lines in her face are softer, more delicate and feminine but her smile is the exact same, bright enough to rival the sun and kind enough to make anybody feel at ease. Strangely (thankfully) Haruka does not get the same jolt in his stomach when on the receiving end of hers, but he shakes the thought away, not willing to delve into it right now. “Nice to meet you, Haruka-kun. Do you mind helping me in the kitchen for a little bit while the twins help Makoto carry your things to his room?”

Her tone brokers no room for argument and although they sulk, Ren and Ran pick up one bag each and start to push Makoto from the room, trying to talk over each other to get his attention. He allows himself to be pushed along easily enough, casts a glance back at them with soft eyes and the unadulterated look of happiness on his face is enough to make Haruka’s stomach clench. Once again, he shoves these thoughts away and tries to focus.

“Of course,” he says, bowing slightly. “Please take care of me.”

She laughs, leading him into the kitchen. “Oh, no need to be so formal, Haruka-kun. You’re a guest in our house so please do your best to try and feel at home.” 

He nods, albeit a little bashfully, tilting his head downwards so that his hair falls into his face.

There is a pause between them, a weird sort of silence that makes Haruka think that she is weighing her words carefully. And sure enough, when Mrs. Tachibana speaks again, her voice seems heavier somehow, as if the weight of the world is resting on her petite shoulders. Haruka does not think that she is sad so much as serious, like what she wants to say is of the utmost importance. He unconsciously straightens his back, ready to take on whatever it is that she wants to ask of him. They’ve only met moments before but he already knows that he would do anything to keep her expression from falling, the same sort of feeling that he had towards the twins earlier. And try as he might to fight it, he can no longer deny that it all comes back to Makoto. 

“Haruka-kun,” she begins. “Makoto is okay out there in Tokyo, right? Of course we know that he is a fully capable adult and has helped us out so often with the twins that we’re not  _too_  worried about him in that regard. But,” she bites her lip and sighs, dark eyes rising to meet his, “you know Makoto. You’ve seen how soft his heart is and I have to wonder if people in that city take advantage of him. He’s always been one to put others before himself and well, a mother worries, as I’m sure you know.”

He shakes his head. “He overworks himself sometimes but he’s okay. Nobody takes advantage of him.” And then, in a rare show of openness, he continues, “Me, Rin and Sousuke would never let that happen to him. Don’t worry.”

“So you’ll take care of him, then?” 

And there is a strange layer to her smile that Haruka cannot place, that reminds him of Rin and occasionally Sousuke but he has no name for it and he is hit with a sudden burst of frustration, clenching his fist on his knee so tightly that his knuckles crack. Why is he always the last one to know everything? Why does he constantly feel like two different conversations are being held despite only being able to understand one of them? For months now, it’s been as if everyone around him is speaking in riddles and he has never had the patience required for troublesome things like word games. Even so, he nods stiffly, mashes his lips together when the lump in his throat renders him unable to speak.

Her expression softens but the twins race into the room before she has a chance to say anything, colouring books, crayons, markers and coloured pencils clutched in their little fingers. Following behind at a slower pace, Makoto pokes his head into the room, eyes finding Haruka’s immediately. There’s a questioning glint to them and at first, he thinks that Makoto is wondering why his mother pulled Haruka away from the crowd so suddenly. It is only when he notices the slight frown marring his features that Haruka realizes Makoto is worried about him  _now_ ; worried about the white knuckles resting stiffly in his lap and the muscle jumping in his jaw, working overtime to create the illusion of composure. 

“Mom?” There is an edge of panic in his voice. 

But she is once again cut off by Ren and Ran as they clamour around Haruka, each grabbing onto one of his sleeves. “Haru-chan! Haru-chan, come and play with us!” Ran pulls on his sleeve, trying to get him to stand up and follow her into the dining room; he complies, gently taking Ren’s hand in his so that he does not get left behind. Their behaviour is the exact opposite of how they first treated him when he walked through the door but he figures that Makoto must have talked to them and smoothed things over somehow. Whatever the case, Haruka is not complaining; he does not mind spending time with the kids and this is much better than being glared at from the shadows.

The three of them leave Makoto and his mother behind in the kitchen, the brunet immediately settling into Haruka’s vacated seat and leaning purposefully onto the counter. Haruka can hear the sound of his voice but is unable to grasp any words, too busy paying attention to the twins as they show him various pages in their colourings books – dolphins and mermaids and an elephant dancing on a rubber ball. He nods and picks up a coloured pencil, a smile pulling on the corner of his mouth as the twins shriek in excitement.

“Which one are you gonna colour, Haru-chan?”

He rolls the dark green coloured pencil between his thumb and forefinger, using his free hand to tap against the image of the mermaid. He takes a quick glance up at Ran, blue eyes narrowing in thought, before picking a teal one out as well and setting it aside. Then, letting his eyes linger on one that is the perfect shade of brown, he addresses Ren. “Do you have a pencil?”

\--

“ – nd I’m telling you that this boy cares about you!”

Haruka blinks, once, twice, three times, before settling his eyes closed again. There is no way of knowing how long he has been asleep for; no clocks visible in the room, his phone tucked away in his bag and Makoto, who he normally relies on for this type of information, is nowhere to be seen. This – waking up in a new house, completely alone and disoriented – doesn’t bother him as much as it probably should, to be honest. He feels safe in the Tachibana home, warm and protected. As if nothing could ever happen to him as long as he is nestled inside these walls. The thought brings a soft smile to his lips and despite the somewhat awkward position he is in – is that a crayon poking into his neck? – Haruka feels far too comfortable to move.

“Of course he does, we’re friends. Besides, you’re my mom. You think that everybody cares about me.”

The sound of Makoto’s voice shakes away any lingering sleepiness and Haruka almost sits upright, curious as to what he is talking about. A part of him is endeared by the thought of Makoto opening up to his mother so much, but their conversation sounds serious and for some reason that he cannot name, his stomach has turned icy, so cold that it burns, sends snowflakes up to clog his throat and make it difficult to breathe. It’s wrong, he knows it is, but he wants to see where this is going and the only way that he can do that is if he pretends to still be asleep. So he slowly closes his eyes once more, holding his breath as he listens.

“Makoto,” Mrs. Tachibana says and her voice is fond, if exasperated. “You saw his face when you came into the room, didn’t you? I think that maybe…you made a mistake, not telling him the truth. You might not see it but both of you are suffering.” Her voice softens. “It’s a little heartbreaking.”

There is a dull  _thud_  and Haruka thinks that Makoto must have collapsed into his seat, dragging his hands down his face until he is holding tightly onto his shoulders. It’s a move reserved for high-stress situations and knowing Makoto, that is exactly what he would classify this as. Because they’re talking about him, aren’t they? Haruka can be aloof at times but that does not mean that his head is always in the clouds; he can tell when he is the subject of conversation. And although the specifics are unclear, he knows that whatever it is, this is something that has been weighing heavily on Makoto for quite some time now.

So then why wouldn’t he just talk to him about it? The thought that Makoto could be struggling so much and  _purposely_  keeping it a secret from him makes him uneasy. His chest feels heavy, like iron beams have strapped down his heart, stopping it from beating, and he shifts in his seat to try and ease the discomfort.

The chair screeches, legs scraping against the floor harshly.

The voices in the kitchen stop.

Haruka freezes.

For a moment, everything is still. And then a bird chirps outside and the silence is broken. 

“Haru?”

Makoto is leaning around the doorframe, features twisted in concern. Haruka slowly sits up, straightening his back and puffing out a sigh of relief as his spine pops. He rubs the back of one hand across his forehead, trying to make it look he has just woken up, and almost jumps when warm hands close themselves around his wrist. He looks up in surprise and stares straight into anxious green eyes, far closer than they had been just seconds before, and belatedly wonders how Makoto was able to move forward so quickly. The naked emotion directed at him, so much worry and love and affection, makes him swallow roughly and he turns his face away. Or he tries to; there is a hand on his chin, holding him in place and he bites back a gasp as Makoto’s thumb brushes against his cheekbone. His touch is intoxicating, gentle, his hands as smooth as broken glass but he has always handled Haruka with so much care that he knows he is in no danger of getting cut.

But that doesn’t stop the heat. Makoto’s fingers are burning on Haruka’s face, the path made by his thumb stinging like a firebrand. He’s sure that if he were to look in the mirror there would be a perfect imprint of Makoto’s thumb seared into his skin, detailed to perfection all the way down to his thumbprint. His hands are gentle, oh so gentle, but  _hot_  and to his mortification, Haruka lets out a whimper. It’s soft and slight, nothing more than a touch of sound, but Makoto’s eyes widen and he looks at Haruka like he is the most beautiful thing in the entire galaxy, like he is worth whatever Makoto has to give up just to  _touch_  him and the sound is pulled from his throat once again, completely unbidden. 

“ _Haru_.”

“Makoto, I – ”

“Boys?” 

They startle; Makoto rips his hands away so quickly that Haruka, who almost falls off of his chair with how high he jumps, instantly feels cold. Mrs. Tachibana is taking in the scene with interest, though her eyes are dark with something like sorrow. They are searching, the intensity of her gaze leaving Haruka feeling exposed, but she must find what she is looking for because she suddenly sighs, tension draining away as her shoulders sag. “Makoto, can you please go and get the twins ready for their bath? They hate this time of the day and you’re the only one who can manage to get them into the bathroom in under ten minutes.”

“Y-yes, of course!”

He is up from the table and out of the room in an instant, ears glowing so brightly that Haruka can track his movement down the hall. Mrs. Tachibana disappears into the kitchen once more and Haruka sighs, chest still heavy. It kind of aches, as if despite being strapped down, his heart had been bursting forth, trying to find some way, any way, to break free and pound rapidly while Makoto had his fingers on Haruka’s face. On his  _face_. He moves the pads of his fingers against the same spot that Makoto had paid so much attention to and tries not to shudder, breath shaky. He can still feel the weight of Makoto’s thumb against the sensitive skin, the impossibly hot trail left behind in its wake and he has to physically shake his head to clear it from these thoughts, to try and push Makoto to the back of his mind so that he can calm down.

“Haruka-kun, would you like some tea?”

Mrs. Tachibana is back, a tray of tea in her hands and a worried look on her face. He nods mutely, taking the steaming cup from her outstretched hands and cradling it between his palms. She does the same, settling across from him, and blows lightly on the surface of her tea, humming thoughtfully. For one terrifying moment, he is afraid that she is going to ask about Makoto (and what would he say, how can he explain something that he doesn’t even understand himself?) but her gaze falls to the table instead, mouth tilting upward in amusement.

“You did this?” she asks, pointing to the picture of the mermaid. It is the very same one from Ran’s colouring book, although he had coloured it in with a likeness to the young girl: dark green hair, big teal eyes, drawn in half-pigtails to complete the look. Beside her was a merman, one that he had crafted to look like Ren, right down to the freckles on the side of his nose. He’d meant to give it to them but had fallen asleep instead, and so they had apparently lost interest in him and gone off to play somewhere else. He still wanted to finish it, though, maybe leave it behind for them as a gift when it was time to go back to Tokyo.

He nods, takes a sip of his tea and hisses as it burns his tongue.

“Haruka-kun, be careful!” Mrs. Tachibana places her cup back onto the tray, drawing the picture closer. Her eyes linger on their tails, a beautiful peridot that reminds him of Makoto’s eyes. As soon as he’d seen the colour, he’d known that it was the perfect one to use and Mrs. Tachibana seems to agree, her smile evident in her voice as she asks, “You really love him, don’t you?”

“Mmm.”

He answers without thinking, the affirmation coming naturally to him, but only realizes what he has said when he hears the sharp intake of breath coming from across the table. Mrs. Tachibana looks like she wants to cry, eyes shining with unshed tears and Haruka rears back, pushing away from the table as the enormity of his words catch up with him.

It can’t be true. He has to be wrong; there is no way that he could have done something so  _stupid_.

He stands on shaky legs, moves away when Mrs. Tachibana tries to reach for him, fists pressed against his thighs. “I have to go,” he says, and feels a burst of relief that his voice does not waver. “Tell Makoto that I went down to the beach. I just…have to go.”

She calls after him but he ignores her, blindly shoving his feet into his shoes and racing out the door, down the steps, not familiar with the area but just running towards the ocean. He doesn’t know how he could have let himself do something as stupid as fall for Makoto. He doesn’t know when it started or how it happened or any of that stuff; most importantly, he doesn’t know  _why_.

 _Why_  did he have to do something like this?

 _Why_  was Makoto perfect, so perfect that Haruka had not been able to help himself?

 _Why_  did he have to fall in love with someone who was not his soulmate?

Because that was the case, wasn’t it? He and Makoto had touched plenty of times and never before had he felt the initial  _zing_  and pain that came with the changing of a soulmate mark. He’d never once caught a flash of any gold at all,  _anywhere_  on Makoto’s body and he knew for sure that even if by some miracle his feelings were reciprocated, they would never be able to be together. Eventually, Makoto would find his soulmate, his  _true_  soulmate, the one who made his mark bleed gold and then he would have no choice but to leave Haruka behind and start his new life. 

The life that he was meant to have.

The life that he was  _born_  to have.

And that would be it – there was no way that Makoto would want Haruka hanging around him then, not when he would still be in love with him. Because that is what would happen, he was sure of it. Haruka could not imagine ever feeling differently than this, could not imagine ever being able to let these feelings go. They hurt like hell, felt like a fire poker had been jammed into his still beating heart, but he would never be able to give them up. 

He loves Makoto.

He  _loves_  Makoto. 

The realization hits him so hard that he staggers, trips over his own feet and collapses onto the sand. He loves Makoto; everything in him wants to say it out loud, see if the words taste as good as they feel but he is  _so_  scared to. Scared of what this means for him, scared of how Makoto would ever react if he found out, scared of how  _angry_  he feels at himself. Why did  _he_  have to be the different one, the only person to fall in love with someone outside of their soulmate? Why did  _he_  always have to complicate things – why couldn’t  _he_  ever be happy?

He draws his knees up, digs his heels into the sand and lets the tide wash over his feet. But for the first time that Haruka can remember, the water does nothing to calm him down and something in him breaks; he presses his face against his knees and begins to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extras:
> 
> The information about the meaning behind the jellyfish tattoo is not something that I made up. I actually found it on [this](http://www.shamanicjourney.com/jellyfish-power-animal-symbol-of-acceptance-and-faith) website. Unfortunately I’m not entirely sure what a power animal symbol is but I did like what the meaning was, so I decided to try and put it into the story somehow. Jellyfish in general are pretty interesting to me, to be honest.
> 
> About their ages – it was actually something that I had decided when I was still planning out the story. That they would be a fair bit older than in the show, I mean. Haru already turned 23 in the last chapter, and Makoto does in this one. I wanted them to be a little bit older but not exactly ready to take on the world yet, so I thought that this would be a good compromise.
> 
> So that thing with the puppies and kittens is actually something that my school does. Around exams they set up this little play park in the library and let students de-stress by playing with the animals. I figured that maybe it was something that Makoto might need to take advantage of.
> 
> And yes, I have used my creative license to make the twins the same age as in the show, even though Makoto and Haruka have been aged up. Honestly, I just did not feel like writing them as teenagers and at least this way, I managed to get a teeny tiny bit of plot out of it.
> 
> So that is it for this chapter! One more to go but until then, questions, comments, concerns and criticisms are always welcome. Thank you very much for reading this far and I hope that you liked it!


	3. December - January

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everything happens at once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This…took really long. 
> 
> I’m sorry!
> 
> I had wanted to have this out earlier but something happened and I was too upset to write so the ending scene got put on the back-burner for a little while but you guys are not here for excuses, so please read on and I will explain everything at the end.
> 
> Third part, forever unbeta’d – apologies in the case of any mistakes.

“Mako-chan?” 

Two knocks sound against his door and then a head of blond hair is peering into his room, eyes sparkling so brightly that they raise suspicion. Makoto takes one last look at his phone and sighs before dropping it onto the bed beside him and sitting up. Aside from Sousuke and Rin occasionally texting him, it has been radio silent for the past couple weeks. Some part of Makoto has been hoping that Haruka would eventually reach out to him, maybe explain his hasty escape from Iwatobi and lay Makoto’s worries to rest, but no such luck. It was finally time for him to accept that his soulmate was avoiding him.

He has no idea why, though. Haruka had not bothered to give him anything to go on, Sousuke was remaining tight-lipped and Rin was cryptic at best, although there was an undercurrent of anger present whenever he spoke about the whole thing. It crackled dangerously whenever the topic was brought up but Makoto could not understand why Rin would be angry, much less with him. He hadn’t done anything wrong this time. He wasn’t the one who ran away, the one who did not even care enough to answer a single phone call. Makoto had thought that he and Haruka were close, maybe even best friends, but apparently he had been wrong. Maybe Haruka really wanted nothing to do with him at all; he obviously preferred to make a clean break rather than waste time with an explanation.

The thought hurt more than he cared to admit.

But at the same time, Makoto knew that he had no right to feel that way. After all, he had been trying to stay by Haruka’s side for his own selfish reasons. If the other man wanted to break their friendship, he was well within his rights to. It was not like he was tied to Makoto; there was no reason for him to stick around if he no longer wanted to. And as much as it hurt, as lonely as it felt, Makoto was going to honour Haruka’s wishes. It was not like he had very much of a choice in the matter either way.

He shakes these dark thoughts away, finally turning to Nagisa. “Yes?”

But his friend is eyeing him in a way that makes his skin prickle and feel uncomfortably tight and he knows what is coming before Nagisa even opens his mouth. “Are you okay, Mako-chan? You seemed like you were far away just then.”

“I’m fine,” Makoto sighs, rubbing his forehead in a way that indicates he is, in fact, the farthest thing from ‘fine’ and although Nagisa bites his lip, he chooses not to comment. Makoto feels bad, knows that his friend is just worried about him, but shakes his head in resignation as he continues, “What do you need?”

Nagisa perks up. “Ne, ne, Mako-chan! Rei-chan wants to make chocolate chip pancakes – ” and Makoto rolls his lips, holding back his laughter because he knows very well that Nagisa has coerced his soulmate into making the overly sweet treats for him, “ – but we’re out of chocolate chips! Can you go get some? Please,  _please?”_

Fingers clasped beneath his chin, big pink eyes blinking up at him – Nagisa is the picture of innocence and Makoto feels his resolve crumbling. He’s not proud to admit this, but he’d wanted to spend some more time in his room, maybe keep on torturing himself with his ever-silent phone, but he has never been able to say no to Nagisa and the little blond devil knows that. 

Which is how he finds himself standing outside the nearest convenience store an hour later, holding a packet of chocolate chips in his hands and staring forlornly up at the sky. The sudden downpour of rain came out of nowhere, hitting its heaviest while he was busy shopping and Makoto is lucky that he had enough extra money on him to buy an umbrella as well or else he would be in trouble. The fabric is decorated with tiny bubbles, the handle a matching baby blue, and he yelps as it snaps open, arm shaking with the force of it. 

The sound of rain hitting against the umbrella is strangely calming and his lips settle into an easy smile as he weaves through the crowd, hardly in any hurry to get back home. It’s odd; this is the most content that Makoto has felt since getting back from Iwatobi. To be honest, it is the most content that he has felt since Haruka walked out of his life and although he is nowhere near as  _happy_  as he once was, he is finally beginning to think it may be possible for him again. Nothing will ever make him feel the same way Haruka does, not really, but he is beginning to think that he does not have to feel so defeated all of the time either.

But then he sees him from the corner of his eye – dark hair plastered to his forehead from the rain, dull blue eyes turns towards his sneakers and before Makoto knows it, he is following after him. It’s Haruka, it has to be, he would know him anywhere, and Makoto’s steps quicken until he overtakes him, one arm shooting out and grabbing onto his shoulder. Haruka freezes, his eyes wide and…scared? Makoto instantly releases him, hating that he was the one to put that look on Haruka’s face, takes a small step back so that he does not crowd him and make things worse. He just wants an explanation, that’s all. He just wants to know why Haruka came back home early, why he hasn’t been answering his calls, why he came into Makoto’s life and made him love him only to abandon him when he least expected it.

“Haru,” he begins, but Haruka flinches and the words die on his tongue. His mouth is dry, his lips chapped, and he runs his tongue over the bottom one, wincing in discomfort. Taking a deep breath, he tries again, “Haru.”

“Makoto, I can’t – ”

“Can’t what?” He shakes his head, setting his confusion aside for later. “Look, if you no longer want to be friends then that’s fine. I just want you to be happy, Haru. But you really shouldn’t walk around in the rain without an umbrella, you’ll get sick! Just,” he pauses here, shifting his umbrella forward so that at least Haruka’s head is shielded from the downpour. He can feel the rain soaking into his back, making his clothes heavy and uncomfortable and an idea suddenly strikes. “Just come back home with me, for a little while. So you can dry off and change your clothes. Maybe take a hot bath too. And then you can be on your way, I promise.”

Haruka looks unsure.

“I promise,” Makoto says again, more firmly this time, and Haruka relents, all the fight draining out of him.

“Fine.”

The walk back to his apartment is silent, save for the rain falling around them. It is clear that Haruka doesn’t want to stand too close to him and while the thought stings, Makoto manages to take it in stride. Haruka’s wellbeing is more important than his hurt feelings anyways, so he extends his hand until the other man is completely covered, letting his shoulder get wet in the process. Between that and his back, Makoto knows that he is going to have to change when he gets home as well, maybe put in that load of laundry he’d been avoiding for a few days now, but he’s not bothered; not when Haruka is standing right in front of him, looking as impossibly beautiful as ever.

Haruka stiffens when Makoto unlocks the front door, his shoulders drawn up tight. He says nothing as he steps inside, toeing off his shoes and waiting quietly for Makoto to set the umbrella aside before he moves further into the apartment. Makoto takes this in sadly, heart aching for the Haruka who was comfortable in his home, the one who moved around like it was his home too, showing no qualms about rummaging around in the fridge or putting the dishes away. This Haruka seems uncomfortable in his own skin, more fidgety than Makoto has ever seen him before.

“Mako-chan, you’re back!”

“Nagisa-kun, please, you’ll over-mix the batter!”

Their voices carry across the apartment faster than their feet, but soon enough Nagisa and Rei appear in the hallway, the former vigorously whisking something in a bowl. Rei is following behind him, a smudge of flour on his cheek, trying to grab for the bowl to no avail; Nagisa is evading his hands, dancing around him like it is second nature. Despite his own inner turmoil, Makoto has to smile at their antics. His friends really had an uncanny way of cheering him up without even knowing they were doing it.

“So did you get them?” Nagisa finally looks up from the bowl, voice dying as his eyes land on Haruka. “Oh.”

“Of course,” Makoto says. He hands the bag of chocolate chips over quickly, practically plopping them into Rei’s unsuspecting hands, and then gently tugs on the hem of Haruka’s shirt. He pretends that he does not notice when Haruka winces at the contact, leaving his roommates behind and pulling him down the hall and into his room instead.  

\--

Makoto runs one tired hand down his face, pressing his fingers into the corners of his eyes so hard that little white dots appear behind his eyelids. He’d given Haruka clothes and a towel and sent him off to the bathroom, promising to wash his clothes and have them ready to go as soon as possible. He has a suspicion that the only reason why Haruka came home with him in the first place was because he was getting flustered and needed the water to try and calm down. He does not even want to think about how this would have played out had the sun been shining when they bumped into each other. By now, Haruka has spent the better part of an hour soaking in the bath; Makoto has spent the same time lying down on his bed and trying to figure out how his life has gotten so complicated.

He figures that it all started when he decided to keep his soulmate mark to himself. If he had just told Haruka the truth on that first day, then maybe they would be in a very different place right now. Maybe they would be living together, happy, in the sort of relationship that Makoto has been dreaming of ever since he found out the significance of the mark on his wrist. Maybe he would be able to kiss Haruka good-bye before they head off to their separate schools, barely able to concentrate all day because his mind would be full of dark hair and bright eyes, the precious little pout that he has wanted to kiss away for as long as he can remember. His life would be so different, full of so much love that he has to rub one hand over his heart to soothe the ache simmering in its depths. 

And yet…he is not sure whether or not he would want to do things differently. His relationship with Haruka is confusing: it is the easiest thing in the world but can sometimes be difficult; the most fulfilling thing he has ever had the pleasure of experiencing but can sometimes leave him feeling unsatisfied; messy but neat, perfect but broken. It brings him the same amount of happiness to be around him as it does pain and when he sees him, Makoto cannot decide whether it is love or heartache that has his chest feeling like it is about to burst. 

It can be exhausting.

But given the choice, he knows that he would do the same thing all over again. Because he got to  _fall_  in love with Haruka, with all of his faults and quirks and weird little tendencies that never fail to make his heart skip a beat. Makoto had a great deal of respect for the phenomenon of soulmates, had grown up knowing that someday he would find the person who was made just for him and they would be able to live happily ever after. He’d seen it happen with his friends, his family, even seen two strangers find each other on the street once, and it had been beautiful. It was always beautiful. 

But the way that things had unfolded with Haruka was different. He remembers when Nagisa had met Rei, remembers how it had been a wintery Monday morning at the train station. He was happy for his friend – he still is – and Rei has grown to become an important part of his life. But he still feels like they met on the Monday and by the Wednesday, Rei had been moving in with them. He still feels that sometimes things move too fast when it comes to the overwhelming love felt for a soulmate. That is why he likes the way things worked out for him; he hurts every day and has undoubtedly caused more drama than necessary for himself, but he also got to see Haru for who he really is and fall in love with him even more because of it.

Everything else is a small price to pay for something like that.

Makoto rolls onto his side, stretching down the bed, and opens his eyes just in time to see the door open. “Haru?” He sits up instantly, restless fingers cradled in his lap as he takes in Haruka’s figure – towel draped over his head, clothes hanging loosely from his frame. The shirt is big on him, shoulders somewhere down by his elbows, and he is clutching fistfuls of the fabric, holding it away from his body. Haruka lifts his head up, the movement forcing the towel down around his neck, and takes Makoto’s breath away with the unfiltered awe gleaming in his eyes.

“Where did you get this?” 

“The shirt?”

Haruka nods.

“Oh, well.” Makoto scratches the side of his neck. “Ran got it free in a special bundle when she got the game but it was way too big for her, so she gave it to me.” He watches the way Haruka gently traces the cartoon figure with one finger, the touch almost reverent. “Why, is it special?”

He nods again. “He’s my favourite.”

Makoto smiles. “Then you can keep him, if you want. I don’t get much wear out of him, so he’s better off going home with you.”

Haruka blushes; his hold on the shirt tightens as he turns his head away, voice coming out in a near whisper. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, Haru-chan.”

The blush deepens, his lower lip jutting out in a pout. “Don’t add –chan to my name.”

“Right, right, sorry.” Makoto raises his hands in surrender, words almost lost in a chuckle. The air between them is so comfortable and familiar that he almost forgets the reason that they are here, almost forgets that Haruka has been avoiding him for weeks. But remembering is like a bucket of ice water being dumped over his head – he freezes, eyes widening, before the amusement melts off of his face. Once again, he drops his hands to his lap, nibbles on the inside of his lip, and the colour drains from Haruka’s face.

“Makoto.” His voice is small as he pads closer to the bed, mattress dipping beneath his weight as he perches uncomfortably on the edge. He swims in that shirt, neckline slipping down to allow a sliver of collarbone to peek out, and Makoto just wants to gather him up into his arms and make everything okay. “Makoto, I’m sorry.”

And all of a sudden he is back in time, surrounded by people eager to ride through the Haunted Mansion, Haruka quietly stewing at his side. The sense of déjà vu is incredible and before he knows it, Makoto has placed his fingers into the curl of Haruka’s fist, touching him as gently as he would a baby bird.

“Haru,” he says, “Haru, it’s okay.”

“It’s not!” Haruka shakes his head. He clenches tightly onto Makoto’s hand, almost as if he were trying to draw the strength needed to continue. “Makoto, it’s not okay. But I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know if it is something that can be fixed. But…these few weeks were no good without you. So I’m sorry.”

“Haru.” Makoto takes a deep breath, shifting so that their clasped hands are pressed against his heart. “I missed you too; you know that you’re my best friend! And it’s okay, whatever the problem is, it’s okay. I’ll help you as best I can but I can’t do that unless I know how. You don’t have to tell me right now – “ his voice raises a bit at the panic brewing in Haruka’s eyes, “ – not right now if you do not want to. But please…I’d like to know. Why you left, what happened…I’d like to know. But take your time. I’ll help you fix it whenever you think that you’re ready.”

Haruka’s lower lip trembles, a testament to just how much emotion he must be keeping inside.

Makoto reaches up, cradling Haruka’s cheek in the palm of his hand, thumb brushing lightly against the corner of his mouth and just like that, the dam breaks. Haruka lunges forward, presses his face into Makoto’s chest and lets himself cry. There are no tears, just dry sobs that shake his whole body, soft hiccups muffled against the fabric of Makoto’s shirt and there is nothing more that he can do except run his fingers through Haruka’s hair, murmur apologies and promises that everything will be fine. 

“I’m sorry, Makoto, I’m sorry.” 

The words are garbled, almost unrecognizable, caught between heaving breaths and Makoto just presses a chaste kiss to the crown of his head, trying to provide some sort of comfort. “Shh, it’s okay. Haru, do you hear me? It’s okay.” 

He cuddles Haruka close, holding him tight against his chest as he lies back on the bed. Haruka moves with him easily enough; he curls in against himself, resting the top of his head against Makoto’s shoulder and slotting one leg through the space between his knees, tangling their feet together. Makoto holds his breath at the unusual display of affection but the contact seems to do the trick – Haruka stops shaking and relaxes, his breathing stabilizing and then slowing down until Makoto is sure that he has fallen asleep.

He sighs then, a little shaken up himself. Haruka is never so open with his emotions; Makoto has never seen him cry before now. Being there as he broke down, seeing his walls crumble around him – Makoto is known for being a scaredy-cat but this was truly terrifying. He sighs again before turning onto his side, keeping Haruka safe in the crook of his arms as his lips ghost over silky black hair.

He still wants an explanation. He still wants to be able to understand where he went wrong, what he could have done to make Haruka leave him the way he did. But for now, this is enough. Everything else can wait until tomorrow. 

 

* * *

 

Haruka wakes up to all-encompassing warmth – wrapped around him, glowing softly within him, spreading from the centre of his chest all the way down to the tips of his toes. He wiggles around a little bit, trying to cool down, only to discover that he is being held in place by a pair of strong arms.  _Familiar_  arms. Instantly, that comforting warmth begins to heat up, boiling over until his blood feels like fire racing throughout his veins.  

“Makoto,” he grouches. He struggles to sit up but finds that he is pinned to the bed, the curve of his waist anchored down by the weight of Makoto’s forearm. But he needs to get out of this bed, needs the bathroom in a bad way, so he roughly shoves the heel of his hand against Makoto’s chest. “Oi, Makoto. Move.”

A strange snuffling sound escapes him but he thankfully rolls over, sliding his arm under his pillow and freeing Haruka from his grasp. Who then stands up, adjusts his shirt so that it lies down properly and stalks out of the room, feet automatically steering him towards the bathroom. He’s been to Makoto’s apartment so many times that he could find his way around blindfolded; had actually done it once on a dare from Makoto and ended up going home that night with a week’s worth supply of mackerel. The corners of his mouth shift upward at the memory…and promptly fall down again when he remembers what happened last night.

How could he be so stupid?

(It seems like he has been asking himself that question a lot lately).

How could he let himself get roped into coming over to the apartment? How could he let his guard down and accidentally confess all of that to Makoto before falling asleep in his arms? And most importantly, why is he going to the bathroom instead of sneaking out and running away? 

He cannot do this again; he cannot let himself get close to Makoto because then it would only hurt so much more when the inevitable happens and he finds his soulmate. That was why he had been distancing himself; it had gotten harder and harder to ignore the phone calls, the text messages, the voice mails, but somehow he had managed to do it despite the pain. And now, because of one moment of weakness, it had all been for nothing.

Haruka splashes some water on his face and relaxes instantly. He can do this. Moreover, he  _has_  to do this. He can live with the pain but he does not want Makoto to hurt because of him. He knows his friend, knows that he will put Haruka’s feelings first and worry about him constantly instead of enjoying time with his soulmate and Haruka cannot be responsible for that. The only way out of this mess is to shoulder it all himself and he can do it, no hesitations. Not if it means that Makoto would finally be able to get the happiness that he deserves.

He shuts off the tap, just about ready to go out there and make his escape, when a strange flash catches his eye. The early morning sunlight is coming through the slats of the window, striking against his neck and making something…sparkle?

His brow furrows. Had he been around any glitter recently? It was the only explanation that he could think of; no matter how many baths he took, glitter always stuck around for days. The last time that this had happened was a while ago, four months at least, when he had helped Rin and Gou babysit their little cousins and accidentally gotten them obsessed with making cartoon fish out of glitter and paste. He admits that it had been fun, but he was sure that all of the leftover glitter had made its way down the drain weeks ago.

His thoughts are interrupted by three loud thumps on the door, further accompanied by a sing-song-y voice. “Mako-chan, come on out! You have  _a lot_  of explaining to do!”

Haruka pulls open the door without ceremony, satisfaction curling in the pit of his stomach as he takes in the shocked expressions of Makoto’s roommates. The blond is munching on a pancake, magenta eyes wide as he stares. There is a smudge of chocolate underneath his right eye, its twin on the left a perfect replica if not for the golden shine and distinct lines forming it into a triangle. His soulmate – obvious enough even before noticing the matching mark on his neck – has one hand clasped around his wrist, trying unsuccessfully to rein him in.

The blond recovers first. “Ah! You must be Haru-chan! We didn’t know that you’d spent the night…and in Mako-chan’s clothes too!” He waggles his eyebrows in a slightly obnoxious way, but his sunny grin counters the effect quite nicely. “Did he finally tell you the truth?” 

Haruka frowns.

“Nagisa-kun!”

The blond – Nagisa – slaps a hand over his mouth, forgotten pancake tumbling to the floor. He glances back at his soulmate, lowering his hand just enough to squeak out, “Sorry, Rei-chan!”

“You know that he didn’t want us to say anything,” Rei says, sounding troubled. He draws his lips together in a thin line. “How are you going to explain this to him?”

“It was an accident!” 

“Somebody explain it to  _me_.”

The steel edge in Haruka’s voice cuts Nagisa’s wailing clean off. He stares at them, expression unmoving, although less out of anger and more from confusion. He thinks back to that day in the Tachibana household, the day that he realized his feelings, and remembers that Mrs. Tachibana told Makoto something along the same lines.  _You made a mistake, not telling him the truth._  And then Nagisa, not two minutes ago: _did he finally tell you the truth?_ They must be talking about the same thing, but what could it be?

Just what was Makoto keeping from him?

He brushes his fingers across the jellyfish, something that he has taken to doing when lost in thought, and suddenly all of the pieces fall into place. Was it possible that the sparkle was not coming from glitter but rather from his soulmate mark? Could it be that he had met his soulmate – could it be that  _Makoto_  was his soulmate? Part of him wants to scoff, to refute the idea and not hurt himself even more by getting his hopes up. But another part, a bigger part, sees the way that Nagisa is biting his lip, sees the pinch in Rei’s forehead and knows that this is at least something worth checking out. Knows that he may have been given a chance right now to be happy and if he does not take it, then he would spend the rest of his life hurting, wondering, lost in an endless sea of what-ifs. 

So with that in mind, Haruka slips back into the bathroom and leans on the counter, turning a critical eye to his neck for the second time that morning. Nothing seems out of the ordinary at first; a jellyfish resting along the smooth skin, cool to the touch and almost embarrassingly pale, coloured in with various shades of blue blended together perfectly. It is a sight he is used to, something that he has seen reflected back at him in the mirror every morning for the past six months. But then he shifts his head, tilts his chin down a little bit and – there. The touch of gold is back, nestled beneath the umbrella in a way that makes it look as if the jellyfish is protecting it. Keeping it close, unwilling to let anybody near its own little treasure.

“Makoto is my soulmate,” he breathes, all of the air leaving his lungs at once.

He feels like there are fireworks going off inside of his chest, a never-ending stream of colour and light and heat and crackling and bubbling and he just wants it to stop but he never wants it to end. Makoto is his soulmate. All of the time that he spent trying to stay away from him, all of the feelings plaguing his every thought, it was all okay. He did not need to worry anymore because Makoto is his soulmate. It was perfectly normal to be in love with him. He was not doing anything wrong. He was not stupid. He was just a man hopelessly in love with his soulmate who was unfairly perfect in every way. The crushing guilt that had taken residence behind his ribcage was gone; he was okay. He was  _okay_.

For the first time in weeks, Haruka feels like he can breathe freely again.

“Makoto is my soulmate,” he says again, this time addressing the pair behind him.

Nagisa looks ecstatic, bouncing on the balls of his feet happily. “He is, Haru-chan!”

A thought strikes him then and he frowns. “Then why didn’t he tell me? He must have known. You know. His mother knows. Why didn’t I know?”

Nagisa snaps his mouth shut. 

Rei pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, fingers trembling.

It is obvious that they don’t know what to say so Haruka pushes past them. His feelings of happiness have been replaced with a white-hot anger, heartbeat thrumming in his fingertips, and the only thing that he can think of right now is finding Makoto. Finding him and making him explain what is going on, what has been going on for the whole time that they’ve known each other. Making him explain why he would keep something so big – so  _amazing –_ a secret and leave Haruka to fend for himself.

He just wants to know  _why_.

Makoto is up when he enters the room, back to the door as he finishes making up his bed. He turns when he hears footsteps, the pleasant smile on his face slowly making way for a look of uncertainty when he sees Haruka’s stormy expression. Whether he realizes it or not, Makoto takes a step back, his calf nudging against the side of the mattress. “Haru?”

Eyes narrowed, Haruka studies Makoto without so much as a blink, scowling until his gaze lands on the soft leather cuff that he always wears. The one that he has never seen him without, ever, not once, not even when they have gone swimming, or when Makoto is elbow deep in dishwater. The one that, Haruka realizes, would create the perfect cover for anything he wanted to hide. When he speaks, his words come out clipped, as if he has to bite his tongue to keep the anger in check. “Take that off.”

“Haru – ”

“Take it off.”

“Haru, what’s going on?” 

“If you take that off, am I going to see a golden anchor?”

Makoto goes pale. “What?”

Haruka takes a step forward. “Are we soulmates?”

“Haru, where is this – ”

“Answer me.”

He pauses at length and then, quietly, “How did you find out?”

But it is like Haruka does not even hear him, steamrolling ahead with another question of his own. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Haru.”

“Am I not good enough?”

“No! No, Haru…never. That’s not…that could never…Haru, no.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me? I have been so confused, Makoto. I…I fell in love with you and I  _hated_  myself for it.” He ignores the way Makoto flinches. “I hated myself because I thought I was wrong to feel that way about you, not when you belonged with someone else. I tried to stay away from you so that you could be happy and it hurt but I thought that it was the right thing to do. I was hurting because it was the right thing to do but this whole time, you knew. You knew and you told your mom and you told Rei and Nagisa and you’ve been  _lying_  to me. We could have been  _together_.” Haruka takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. “We could have been happy. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted to!” Makoto’s voice is thick with tears but Haruka refuses to be swayed. “The moment I saw you Haru, you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. And then I saw the anchor on your neck and I couldn’t believe that someone like  _you_  could be my soulmate, that I would be so lucky. But you are. And I am. And I was so happy!” He shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “But when you told me that you wanted to cover up the soulmate mark…I thought that you never wanted to find your soulmate. I thought that you would be happier if I never told you the truth so I kept it to myself. I just…I didn’t want to tie you to me like that, not if you just wanted the whole soulmate thing to be gone. So you covered up the mark and I covered up the truth. And I kept my feelings for you to myself…I never thought that you would ever feel the same way. About me. Haru, I was just happy to have you in my life, I didn’t think that it mattered how; as long as I could see you, I knew that I would be okay.

“But I wanted to tell you every day, Haru please, you have to believe me! I just did not want you to leave me, I did not even want the possibility of that happening so I never did, even though Sousuke and Rin kept on telling me to come clean, and Rei and Nagisa as well, I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t know if I even should.”

Makoto looks miserable. His shoulders lie in a defeated slump, there are tears catching in the corners of his eyes and his hair is dishevelled, partly from sleep and partly because he keeps running his hands through it as he tries to find the right words. But Haruka blankly stares through him, attention held by a simple throwaway comment, something that Makoto might not have even realized he admitted.

“Rin and Sousuke knew about all of this too?”

He sounds dazed, mind rapidly trying to process everything while still somehow keeping the conversation with Makoto on track. So that was why Rin and Sousuke had been acting so weird, what all the hushed conversations with Makoto had been about. They knew. They knew and they had been keeping it from him. He feels like his head is about to explode from the onslaught of information, his heart from the inexplicable feelings of anger and betrayal raging within. “And since the very first day. So I was the last to know. And this whole time, everyone has been lying to me. All of my friends.”

“Haru…I’m sorry.”

“You lied to me!” His voice cracks, the words splintering and getting caught in his throat on their way out. “For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve been lying to me.” Haruka sucks in a shaky breath, letting it out slowly as he moves backward.

“Please, Haruka, let me – ”

“I have to go,” he says, turning swiftly on his heel and running out of the room. He races past Nagisa and Rei, ignoring their cries after him, running out of the apartment and out into the street. He just wants to go home. He wants to forget this morning ever happened; no matter how badly it hurt to have to stay away from Makoto, it is a whole lot more painful knowing that his soulmate had consciously lied to him for months. The former was all on him, a decision that he had made and chose to live with, but the thought of Makoto keeping something like  _this_  from him, knowing that they could have been happy together months ago if not for the lies – his whole world feels off-kilter. Like one wrong move and he would fall down the rabbit hole, Haruka in Wonderland.

The pavement shreds his bare feet, pebbles and bits of gravel tucking themselves into the freshly made grooves, but he just keeps on running. Welcomes the pain, if only because it drowns out the sound of Makoto’s voice as it continues to ring in his ears, choked and broken, begging for Haruka to understand. 

But he does not understand. 

He  _cannot_  understand.

He runs all the way home. 

\-- 

Haruka refuses to see anyone. 

He does not take their calls, deletes their emails without so much as opening them, throws himself into his schoolwork, and avoids anyone who comes to see him on campus. He ducks around corners to hide from a visiting Makoto, heart pounding out of his chest, aching and reaching out for him, longing to be with him again. It is one of the most difficult things that he has ever had to do, something akin to torture, but he breathes deeply until the pain subsides and he is once again able to move. Sousuke is a little bit easier; he winds around campus, making sure that he is being followed, and then sneaks into one of the nearby buildings, leaving his friend lost and confused outside. He manages to do that once or twice before Sousuke never comes back, sending Rin in his place instead. He, Haruka flat out runs away from, ignoring the sting of pain in his injured feet as he makes his escape. Rin does not follow him, but he does shout some choice words at his retreating form.

It continues like this for weeks. 

The sidewalk is blanketed in a thin layer of white, snowflakes kissing the window, when Haruka decides to call his parents. He usually values his space – that much is easy to tell – but this has been getting ridiculous; he does not think that he has had so much free time in his whole life. Besides, he has not heard from them since before his short trip to Iwatobi and is starting to miss the sound of their voices. So he calls them, tells them everything that went on with Makoto, and is happy that they seem to be on his side until – 

“And then?” 

Haruka blinks. “What?”

“And then what happened next?” His mother clarifies. She sounds patient, more curious than anything else, but Haruka can hear something else seeping into her tone, just colouring the edges. He thinks that it sounds like concern.

His grip on the phone tightens. “Nothing.”

His father chimes in, “Nothing?”

“I called you.”

“Oh, Haruka.” His mother sighs and the sheer amount of sadness she is able to convey in that single sound is amazing. He finds himself swallowing thickly as she continues, “Why didn’t you go back and make things right with him? He’s your soulmate, honey.”

“So that makes it okay for him to lie to me?”

“No, of course not. But it won’t do you any good to shut him out either, you’re supposed to try and work these things out together.” She goes quiet, voice soft enough that Haruka has to strain to hear her. “I know that you’re hurting. And I think that it is perfectly understandable – this Makoto did not make the best choice that he could have made in the situation, but he thought that he was doing the right thing. That has to count for something.”

“Listen,” his father adds, and his voice is gruff in that way that means he is getting emotional. “Being away from your soulmate hurts. I know you know that; why do you think I begged your mother to move halfway across the city with me even though you were still in school? Finding them but not being able to be with them is one of the worst feelings in the world.”

And Haruka knows this. He knows it now, when he is living through it every day, the hole in his heart the only thing stopping him from knocking on Makoto’s door and never letting him go. He knew this back then too; years ago when his parents sat him down and explained that they would have to move away for his father’s job but not to worry, he would be able to stay in his home, live with his grandmother and see his parents every few months when they came to visit. He could never have gotten angry with them for leaving him; they had been given very little choice in the matter and he never wanted to tell them this, but he actually enjoyed being on his own. Things were quieter, he had more freedom to do as he pleased and his grandmother never got upset when the only thing on the menu was mackerel. Haruka had long since made peace with the fact that his parents had moved away but apparently they were still grappling with it, even after all of this time.

His father was still talking. “It tears you up inside but…Makoto sat through it. He made the decision to live every day in pain just because he wanted you to be happy. Yes, he lied to you but he cares for you too, Haruka. And your mother and I, we both know that you care for him. Or else you wouldn’t be telling us any of this.”

Haruka presses his lips together tightly.

“Haru,” his mother says, and he blinks. She loves his name, has called him Haruka since the day that he was born and will certainly continue to do so until she is lying on her deathbed, but when she really wants him to listen to what she is saying, when she really wants him to  _hear_  her, she resorts to his preferred nickname. “Above everything, we just want you to be happy. But you’re not. You can try and pretend that you are but you’re not; you  _know_  that you’re not. Whether this boy will be the one to change that, well…it’s up to you. But please, you have to promise us that you’re going to try.”

Haruka squeezes his eyes shut, cups one hand over them and lets the light filter through his fingers. “I will.”

“That’s all we ask, honey,” and he can hear the smile in her voice, the little tremor that shakes her breathing when she is close to tears. “And tell us how it goes, whatever you decide to do.”

“I will,” he says again.

“Love you.”

“Yeah.”

“Good-bye, honey.”

“Bye.”

He waits to hear the disconnecting click on the other end before he shuts his phone off, tossing it beside him on the bed and staring thoughtfully at the ceiling. His mother had a point: he did not  _have_  to go back to Makoto. He wants to, Gods does he want to, but it was still possible to be happy without his soulmate. Hadn’t that been the rationale behind the tattoo in the first place? While it was true that he had always hated the attention that came with such a visible soulmate mark, the truth was that he had also always hated the way people pitied him when they saw that it had yet to be filled in. 

He’s fine on his own; he always has been. He does not  _need_  a soulmate just so that society can deem him complete. And truthfully, he does not really want one either. 

What he  _wants_  is Makoto. 

What he wants is to come home to that gentle smile and that warm embrace. What he wants is to be with him; to always be able to stand by his side, to be the person he talks to when he’s feeling sad or frustrated or overwhelmed. To be the one he clings to when he is scared, the one he seeks out when he needs comfort. He wants to be everything that Makoto has ever wanted, he wants to give him everything that he has to offer and pray that somehow, it will be enough. He doesn’t want to sleep in an empty bed anymore, he wants to feel safe and protected and loved in the circle of Makoto’s arms.

But it’s not that simple. It sounds that simple, it even  _feels_  that simple. But whenever he thinks that he is going to go over there and demand Makoto make it right, he finds himself rooted to the bed. Like his limbs are made of lead, too heavy to manoeuvre, and he is so tired of hurting that he is too scared to even try anymore. 

It is not that he wants to be unhappy. He would give anything to make this feeling of dread go away, to be able to wake up in the morning and not have to take a couple minutes to pull himself together when he remembers the state of his life right now. And if this is what he is going through, he shudders to think about how Makoto must be feeling. 

How  _he_  must be making Makoto feel.

The thought makes bile rise in his throat, sour and unforgiving, and if there is a metaphor there, he is not too blind to see it. But that only makes him feel worse; it’s like someone has taken a cheese grater to his heart, slowly but steadily shaving away until he is left with nothing but a pile of dust before him. The bile creeps higher and suddenly it is hard to breathe, hard to think, hard to  _feel_.

He lurches to his feet and runs to the bathroom.

\-- 

“Oi, Haru. Wake up.” 

A not-so-gentle shove to his shoulder stirs him awake and Haruka opens his eyes a sliver before shutting them tightly, turning away. He can hear Sousuke sigh, knows that the sound of boards creaking means that he is shifting his weight as he steps closer to the bed and on impulse, curls himself into a tighter ball. “No.”

“Nanase.”

“Haru-chan, come on! And take a shower, you can’t go and see Mako-chan smelling like that.” 

“Yeah, Haru, you reek.”

“Go away,” he says, slipping the blanket over his face. Then, lowering it once again, “How did you even get in here?”

Sousuke smirks at him, holding something up and Haruka squints against the light, making out a hint of blue and jagged edges. His mouth drops open as he realizes what it is – the key that he had pressed into Sousuke’s palm all those months ago, on the very same day that he had met Makoto. He had never thought that it would be used like this but then again, he had never thought that it would have to be.

“Remind me to change my lock,” he grouses, and is just about to pull the blanket back up when a slender hand yanks it down, dropping it to the floor. He turns around and glares. “Nagisa!”

His face is dead serious, more serious than Haruka thought possible, when he says, “Haru-chan, get up. Go and take a shower, you smell like – ” he sniffs the air and wrinkles his nose, “ – you’ve thrown up everything you’ve eaten in your life. Ever. So we’ll get something to eat and then we’re going to take you to see Mako-chan.”

“No,” Haruka repeats. But his harsh tone cannot hide the hitch in his breath and he hates the knowing glint in Sousuke’s eyes. “I don’t want to see him.”

Sousuke rubs the side of his nose tiredly. “Why not?”

“Just don’t want to.”

“But why not?”

“Because I’m scared!” The words burst out of him with no warning but once he has started it is hard to stop. “I didn’t even know that we were soulmates and he still managed to…hurt me. So much. It feels like my heart is being cracked open.” Haruka grasps fruitlessly at his chest, fingers trying to find purchase but too weak to hold on. Sousuke looks shocked, clearly never having heard him say this much, seen him with such raw emotion on his face, but Haruka ignores him, continuing, “So what if I go see him? What if I let myself be with him and something bad happens and it feels worse than this? What do I do then? Because I…I can’t do worse than this.”

“Haru,” Sousuke sighs, takes a seat on the edge of the bed. “I know that it’s scary. When I first met Rin and he ran away from me, I felt like with every step that he took, he was stomping on my heart.” He winces, though whether at the memory or the words, Haruka cannot tell. “It hurt. It fucking sucked. And I was scared too, so was Rin. But you told him to go and find me and he did and it is the best feeling in the world. Trust me on that.”

Nagisa takes a step closer. “Haru-chan, of course it’s scary,” he adds, “But that’s what makes it worthwhile.”

“And this is tearing Makoto up inside,” Sousuke says. He drags a hand down his face. “It’s worrying Rin.”

“You know that Mako-chan thought he was doing the right thing, ne?” Nagisa leaps forward, landing on Sousuke’s back and wrapping one arm across his shoulders. He ignores the grunt of displeasure his receives and instead peers at Haruka over Sousuke’s shoulder, eyes incredibly bright. “He always puts others before himself – you know him, he would give his life jacket to a drowning squid! – and you’re his soulmate. Of course he would try to make you happy, even if it killed him inside to be with you and not  _be with you_ , you know?”

“Squids don’t drown,” Haruka says, turning his face away with a huff. “And I never really wanted a soulmate anyways.”

“No,” Sousuke says thoughtfully, “You just want Makoto, right?”

Haruka glares. He hates that Sousuke can see through him so clearly, hates that his feelings for Makoto are written all over his face. He does not answer, studying his blanket and picking at a loose thread, winding it round and round his finger until the tip is swollen and red. Sousuke and Nagisa were saying the same things as his parents and Haruka cannot help but feel like maybe they all had a point. Of course he is still scared, the thought of going to Makoto with his heart in his hands makes him tremble, but more than that, he wants to believe them. He wants to believe that this will be worth it. He wants to believe that he really can be happy, that this is all it will take for the ache in his chest to disappear completely. But he still cannot shake the worry that even if he goes there and puts himself on the line, Makoto will turn him away. Think him too troublesome, too cold to be worth the effort and slam the door in his face. He bites his lip.

“Nanase.”

Haruka reluctantly lifts his chin, one eyebrow quirked in question.

“Don’t worry, okay? You know what kind of guy Makoto is and honestly? He’s not even mad at you right now. He’s torn up because he thinks that you were right to run out on him. He’s torn up because he doesn’t think that you’re ever going to come back. But he loves you.”

“He’s  _crazy_  for you,” Nagisa cuts in. “He even thinks you’re smarter than Rei-chan.”

“…Okay,” Haruka says quietly. He gets to his feet, stretches his arms high over his head as he adds, “Wait for me outside. I’m going to take a bath and then we can go.” Pointedly ignores their victorious grins as he turns and heads for the bathroom, carding one hand through his sweaty hair.

It is not until much later, when they have stepped off the train and are walking towards Makoto’s apartment building, that Haruka remembers something he meant to ask. “How long have you known?” He turns to Sousuke, nose crinkled slightly as he wonders whether or not he really wants to hear the answer. 

“Known what?”

“About me and Makoto.”

Nagisa rushes ahead, pushing the door open with his elbow and holding it for them as they file through. He waves jauntily to the woman behind the front desk, voice echoing around the lobby as he says, “I wondered that too! Because Sou-chan and Rin-chan called the night when you met Mako-chan, which means that they already knew even before me and Rei-chan did! And Mako-chan told us as soon as he came home.”

“Oh.” Sousuke rubs the back of his neck, keeping his eyes fixed on the elevator button as he jabs it roughly. His tone is sheepish, as if he knows that Haruka is not going to like what he says next. “Actually, I’ve known that his mark was an anchor when he came in for the job interview. I was wearing a sleeveless shirt and he saw mine. But he’s Makoto, he felt weird about not being on even ground or something, so he showed me his wrist and that was it. But then I met Rin and Rin introduced me to you and I saw the exact same mark on your neck.” The elevator doors slide open and they pile inside, Nagisa hitting the floor button blindly as he listens to Sousuke’s story. “So I’ve known the whole time. But me and Rin thought that it would be better for you and Makoto to meet yourselves and figure it out.”

Haruka leans against the wall, nodding once as things begin to come together for him. “So that is why you never showed up the day I went to get my tattoo.”

“Right.” Sousuke nods, tucking his hands into his pockets. “We tried to get you two to meet but he was always busy studying or you were always busy at the pool. Until we thought that you could meet him when you went to get your tattoo…but then Makoto decided not to tell you and all of  _this_  happened and here we are.”

The elevator doors slide open again and Haruka swallows, nerves coming to life in the pit of his stomach. He can see the door to the apartment, can hear the low murmur of voices inside with each step that he takes. But he has come all this way and more importantly,  _Makoto_  is on the other side. He can almost feel him; goose-bumps break out along his arms and he presses one hand against his chest, heart thumping against his palm. He barely notices Sousuke and Nagisa hang back as he steps up close, hand hovering over the doorknob, just able to make out what is being said on the other side.

“Makoto.” Rin sounds muffled. “This sort of thing happens sometimes, okay? But you guys will work it out. I’ve read about cases like these online, you guys will be fine.”

“Really, Rin?” He sounds tired, maybe a little frantic and definitely upset, but it is still undeniably Makoto and Haruka’s breath catches in his throat, heartbeat thrumming like the wings of a hummingbird. “You’ve read about cases where someone lied about being someone else’s soulmate but still insisted on being around them, only to end up falling in love and then having everything blow up in their face and now their soulmate is avoiding them and everything feels like it’s a mess – you read cases like that?” A pause, and then the sound of something heavy  _thunk_ ing against a table. “Face it, I’m an anomaly!”

“Makoto-senpai, please – ”

But Rei is cut off as Haruka, unable to hear Makoto beat himself up any longer, opens the door. Three sets of eyes stare widely at him but only one of them shines with a strange mixture of apprehension and hope; this is the pair that Haruka looks into, taking one step into the room and worrying his lips together. “Makoto.”

“H-Haru!” 

His chair is knocked to the ground in his haste to stand up but neither of them pays attention to the noise, too caught up in the mere sight of each other. In knowing that after weeks of separation, they are together in the same room, able to reach out and touch, to trail fingertips across skin, run hands through hair, make the same sort of contact that Haruka has all too recently been starved for. He swallows past the lump in his throat and studies Makoto, taking in the dark circles under his eyes, the unkempt state of his hair and wrinkled clothes and winces, knowing that he is at fault.

“What…what are you doing here?”

Makoto sounds so earnest, like he is more worried about what Haruka is thinking than how his own heart is broken in two. His face is so open, both confused and concerned, and Haruka wants nothing more than to tell him the truth. After all, isn’t that what he came here to do? But the words get caught in his throat – how can he tell him that he came here to apologize, to say that he was sorry for overreacting and that no matter how angry or hurt he was, he still wants to be with him? That he hopes Makoto feels the same and will give him a second chance; that they still have a lot to talk about but he cannot imagine going for the rest of his life without Makoto there with him. How does he tell him all of this, where does he possibly start?

“I miss you,” is what he finally settles on, knowing that the words barely scratch the surface of what he feels but also knowing that Makoto will understand. Someway, somehow, he will be able to tell exactly what Haruka is thinking, be able to uncover the words that he cannot say. “Makoto, I miss you.”

“Oh, Haru,” Makoto sighs, takes one halting step forward. “Haru, I miss you too. I am so sorry about lying to you. So sorry. I just didn’t want you to feel obligated to be with me. That day that you came into the shop, the day we met, you seemed so sure of yourself. You wanted to cover up the mark and I just wanted to make you happy. I thought that keeping the truth to myself would make you happy.”

“It didn’t.” Haruka takes a step of his own, shaking his head. He closes his eyes and draws in a deep breath, trying to prepare himself for what comes next. “You do, Makoto. I ran away. And I got mad and I was scared. I’m sorry. But I’m trying…to make things right. I’m sorry, but…I want to be with you, Makoto. You make me happy.”

“Yeah?” His voice is watery and Haruka feels an inexplicable swelling of love take root deep in his heart.

He nods. 

Makoto takes another step forward, blinking away the tears in his too-green eyes. “I…you didn’t give me a chance to say it to you before, back when you ran away but,” he sniffs, reaches out one hand tentatively to lace their fingers together. “I love you too, Haru. And not because you’re my soulmate. Well, I love that you’re my soulmate, but that isn’t the only reason why. I love you because you’re  _you._ Everything about you, Haru, I just – ” Makoto lets out a shaky laugh, pressing his lips against the back of Haruka’s hand. “I love you so much.”

Pale pink steals across Haruka’s cheeks and he looks to the side, missing the way that Makoto’s expression softens at the familiar gesture. “You’re being embarrassing.”

“Yeah?” Makoto says again, moving closer still. He gently takes hold of Haruka’s chin and tilts his head just so, making it so that they are face to face. Then slowly, so slowly, he lets go to thread his hand through Haruka’s hair, cups the back of his head and brings their lips together. It is achingly sweet and soft and perfect but Haruka wants more; he fists his hands into Makoto’s shirt and pulls him closer to try and deepen the kiss, swiping his tongue along the rough edge of Makoto’s bottom lip. He squeaks in surprise but readily complies, parting his lips and Haruka just melts when – 

“Fucking finally!”

They break apart to the sound of cheers. Makoto looks like he is caught between being flustered and incredibly proud of himself, the rosy hue of his cheeks able to lend itself either way. And though Haruka glowers at their audience, a warm hand smoothing over his back instantly calms him down and he just resorts to burying his face against Makoto’s chest, nuzzling into the soft flannel material.

“Go away,” he growls, smooshed face making the words come out muffled and indistinct. 

But his anger is easily translatable and Rin herds them all away, face flushed with happiness. “Have fun, you two,” he winks, swinging the door shut before either of them can get a word in edgewise. The sound of his laughter fades down the hall and Haruka waits until it is completely gone before blinking up at Makoto, eager to pick up where they were interrupted.

Makoto just smiles down at him, leaning forward and dropping a kiss against his forehead.

“What was that for?”

“Nothing. I just,” he pauses, grin widening, “I just really love you, Haru-chan.”

Haruka lifts to his toes, ghost of a smile pulling on his lips, and breathes the words against Makoto’s neck. “Then why don’t you stop talking and do something about it?”

 

* * *

 

“Ack! Haru, stop touching it!” 

Makoto bats at the finger creeping closer to his neck, aimed right for one of the sizable purple hickeys dotting the otherwise smooth skin. He would complain, really he would, but all that he has to do is cast his gaze upon the bruises marring Haruka’s hips and he instantly feels like a hypocrite. It’s a little bit different, though, given that Haru can cover his up. Makoto supposes that he can too; wrap a scarf around his neck and pretend that he is freezing cold but he knows that he will eventually have to take it off. Which will leave the hickeys on full display, something that he is afraid their friends will enjoy a little  _too_  much, especially since it will be at his expense. 

“Does it hurt?” Haruka asks curiously, lightly passing his knuckles over the bruise.

Makoto grins wickedly. “Want to find out?”

He wastes no time waiting for an answer, already diving in and mouthing along the curve of Haruka’s jaw. Haru grabs onto him, one hand running through his hair, the other curling around his shoulder and he hums into the column of his throat, relishing the soft gasp that he receives in return. The only thing that Makoto wants to do right now is clear their schedules for the next few days and take Haruka back to bed; the way that strong fingers frantically reach for the hem of his shirt, grasping, pulling, tells him that Haruka feels the same. But common sense kicks in soon enough and he stops, pulling back reluctantly only to be met with a breathless glare, the dip in Haruka’s brow looking absurdly adorable when paired with how flushed his cheeks have grown.

“Makoto,” he whines, frowning into Makoto’s neck. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, brushes his thumb across the blue jellyfish. The golden mark burning brightly on the inside of his wrist pulses with energy and he suppresses a contented sigh. “But we have to meet up with everyone in an hour, we don’t have enough time. Hey Haru,” Makoto buries his nose in Haruka’s hair, lands a kiss amongst the silky strands and laughs quietly, overcome with so much emotion that it cannot help but bubble out, “You know I love you, right?”

Haruka rolls his eyes. “Don’t ask stupid questions. And don’t start something you can’t finish.” 

“I’m sorry,” he says again, and this time he gets no response. He’s just about to pull away and see if Haruka is really sulking about this (it’s been three whole days since they’ve last come up for air, surely he can take an afternoon to go and see their friends) when –

“Ow! Haru!”

Haruka draws back, a satisfied look on his face. “What?”

“Did you really have to bite me?!”

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” he repeats, but trails his tongue over the red spot in an effort to soothe.

It has the opposite effect.

Before Haruka can even blink, Makoto has him pinned to the bed, looming over him with a dangerous glint in his eyes. Fingers sneak under his shirt, dancing along the hard muscle of his abdomen; Haruka laughs, the sound tumbling out of his mouth and Makoto presses their lips together again, catching it, relishing the warmth as it travels straight down to his belly. Haruka pulls him closer, leaving not a hair of space between them, and the hollow of his throat once again proves to be a distraction; Makoto nips at the skin there in a way that has toes curling into bed sheets, nails scraping into the small of his back.

“Haru,” he groans, drawing out the name like a prayer. He slides his hand down, toying with the waistband of those ridiculous fish-print boxers, actions at odds with his words. “We  _really_  don’t have time for this so…just once, okay?” 

“Twice,” Haruka says stubbornly. He pauses. “At least.”

Makoto shakes his head fondly, dips his hand just a little lower and swallows the gasp that follows, voice dark with promise when he whispers, “We’ll see.”

\--

Makoto does not like the way that Nagisa is looking at him. 

Actually, he also does not like the way that Rin is looking at him. He especially does not like the way that Rei seems to be avoiding his eyes, studying the menu like the waitress will be bringing by a test packet instead coming to take their order. He swears that he can even see a highlighter clutched in Rei’s shaking hands, although he is not so much using it as fiddling with it, uncapping and then recapping again and again. Sousuke is the only one who is acting even the slightest bit normal, except for the tiny crinkle in the bridge of his nose that Makoto knows to be a red flag.

He’s confused.

“Uh,” he licks his lips, hesitates, and then pushes forward. “What…what’s wrong?”

“Ignore them,” Haruka says. He shifts in his chair, pushing it a little bit closer to Makoto, and takes hold of his right hand, cradling it gently as if it were the most precious thing in the world. “Nothing’s wrong,” he adds, absentmindedly stroking his finger against the golden anchor with a featherlight touch. It tickles a bit but Makoto has gotten used to it; ever since he stopped wearing the leather cuff, Haruka has taken to brushing his fingers against the soulmate mark whenever he gets the chance. It never fails to make Makoto’s knees go weak, as clichéd as it may sound, and he is happy that they are already seated.

“You’re an hour late, Mako-chan,” Nagisa says, biting back a grin. “Busy?”

“Oh.” He flushes. “I guess…yeah.”

Rin rolls his lips inward. “How busy?”

Sousuke clears his throat and Makoto begins to feel like he is being set up. He casts his eyes suspiciously around the table, chewing on the corner of his lip in thought. To his right, Haruka looks completely at ease, scratching at Makoto’s knuckles with the blunt edge of his nail.

“What do you mean?”

Nagisa perches on the edge of his seat and lays his hands flat across the table, leaning forward and beckoning for Makoto to do the same. Which he does, albeit slightly cautiously, eyebrows raised as he tries to figure out what has gotten Nagisa so excited. 

Because, he realizes, that is exactly what this is. That is why there is a feeling of unease twisting around in his stomach; Nagisa looks as if his birthday has come early. He looks as if Rei, despite firmly believing in the importance of a nutritionally balanced meal, has brought home a giant box of sweets for him and given the okay to eat all it for dinner. He looks as if there has been a nationwide sale on ice cream and he has somehow managed to procure a lifetime supply of his favourite strawberry flavoured ice-pop. 

He looks downright  _giddy_.

But giddy in a dangerous way. A way that has Makoto inadvertently tensing, bracing himself and preparing for the worst; there is no telling what sorts of mischief a giddy Nagisa can get them into. It had happened once before and Makoto likes to keep that part of his past tightly under lock and key, never to be spoken of again. And if the panicked looks that were exchanged whenever Nagisa got that particular glint in his eye were any indication, it was a sentiment that both he and Rei shared.

“Well,” Nagisa taps his finger against his chin playfully, nearly falling out of his chair. At his side, Rei shifts uncomfortably, picking at the edge of his sleeve. “We were worried about you, you know? You weren’t picking up your phone or answering any messages! So me and Rei-chan went to check on you at home and see if you were okay.”

Realization begins to dawn on Makoto; sensing his discomfort, Haruka squeezes his hand. “Oh no.”

Finally, Rei cracks. “Makoto-senpai, Haruka-senpai, we are so sorry. It was truly an accident, we did not know that you two were…as you put it,  _busy_. We left as soon as we…uh, heard…that you were preoccupied. It was not our intention to walk in on one of your…private moments.”

“We couldn’t help it anyways, Mako-chan! You were so  _loud_.”

Rin snorts, almost choking on his water.

“Oh no,” Makoto moans, shaky palms held to his face. He turns to Haruka, eyes narrowed. “I told you that I heard something!”

He pouts. “You were having trouble focusing. I thought you imagined it.”

Nagisa cocks an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Of course I was having trouble focusing! Your mouth was arou – ” he cuts himself off when he sees Sousuke’s eyes widen and slumps further down in his seat, cheeks burning. “Oh Gods, I want to die. I want to die right here, right now.” 

“Makoto.” Haruka rests one hand lightly on his shoulder. “It’s okay. Do you know how many blowjobs Rin has given Sousuke on my couch? It’s disgusting.”

Rin cuts in, cheeks lit up in a blush so severe that he actually looks frightening, “Hey!”

“Haru!” Makoto squeaks at the same time, ears aflame. The question itself serves as an admission of what they had been up to; it was far more than his friends ever needed to know about his love life, in Makoto’s opinion. “Don’t just say that!”

Haruka ignores them both. “Besides, it is not really something that you’ll need to worry about anymore, right?”

“Wait, what?” Nagisa snaps to attention, the corners of his grin slipping downward as he sits up properly. “What does that mean?”

The waitress saves them from having to explain, appearing with a bright smile, pen and paper poised in hand. She writes down their orders, casting her eyes over Makoto in a strangely intense way when he asks for a slice of chocolate cake, and he winces as Haruka white-knuckles his knee, expression doing nothing to betray his tenuous thoughts. But Makoto can still tell, knows exactly what Haru is struggling with, and smoothly slides their hands together, palms flush against each other as he wraps up Haruka’s fingers in his own. He gives an extra squeeze for good measure, trailing his thumb lightly across the back of Haruka’s hand, and the waitress seems to take the hint, actually backing away from the table with an apologetic look in his soulmate’s direction. Makoto has to stifle a laugh; he can feel the pressure in his knee ease up as she walks away and he lifts their joined hands to his lips, brushing a warm kiss across Haruka’s knuckles.

In the short time that they’ve been together, he’s come to find that Haruka excels in the art of jealousy. He glares at anybody who stares inappropriately at Makoto and always keeps a tight grip on his hand whenever they go out into overly crowded places. And if somebody gets a little too handsy with him at any given time, Haruka is known to forcefully tug him away, mouth set in a scowl as he stews in jealousy; that was his particular area of expertise and Makoto probably should not have found it as cute as he did. But he could not deny that he liked the feeling. After silently loving Haruka for so long, it was a relief to see that he feared losing Makoto as well. The thought alone made his insides swimmy, threatened a grin so wide that he was afraid his face will break in two.

“Mako-chan, Haru-chan! Stop being all lovey-dovey and explain!”

“Hmm?” Makoto looks up, head tilted in confusion. “Explain what?”

Nagisa breathes harshly through his nose, the height of his frustration. “Why you won’t need to worry about us anymore! We want to know, right Rei-chan?”

“Well, yes, but – ”

“Forget that!” Rin narrows his eyes. “More importantly, Haru, how do you know what we do on your couch?”

Haruka blinks. “I don’t go deaf in the bathtub, Rin.”

Sousuke sighs, the sound all suffering, but Makoto can see the teasing glint in his eyes. “I told you.” 

“Oi, I didn’t see you complaining when – !”

“Mako-chan!” Nagisa whines. His cry drowns Rin out, once again unmatched when it comes to volume, and Makoto slowly feels all of the energy leaving his body. He slumps forward, almost topples over onto Haruka with how tired he suddenly feels.

“Nagisa, stop it.” Haruka’s voice is firm. “You’re stressing out Makoto. He’s moving out of the apartment and coming to live with me.”

“Haru-chan, so blunt,” Nagisa pouts, lets his head fall back against Rei’s chest as he tries to blink away his tears.

Makoto is instantly on red alert. He hates tears at the best of times, and the last thing that he ever wants to do is to hurt his best friend. “No, Nagisa! Don’t cry.”

“Do you have to go?” 

“Nagisa-kun,” Rei sighs, but Nagisa shows no indication of having heard him, barrelling on. “Haru-chan can come and live with us! Wouldn’t that be better?”

“Nagisa,” Makoto feels his heart breaking. “Four people can’t live in a two-bedroom apartment.”

“Yes we can! You and Haru-chan can take your room, and me and Rei-chan can stay in ours and it’ll be fun!”

“Nagisa-kun,” Rei says again. He catches Nagisa’s chin in his hand, fingers moving in a tender caress. “Do you remember when we first met, how badly we wanted to be together, and how excited you were for me to move in with you? Don’t you think that Makoto-senpai and Haruka-senpai feel just the same now as we did back then? Maybe even more so, given that they have been apart for quite some time.” In spite of his burning cheeks, he presses a gentle kiss to Nagisa’s forehead, soft as a butterfly alighting a petal. “You will still be able to see Makoto-senpai, of course. But please stop making him feel bad.”

A pause, and then, “Okay.” His voice wobbles pathetically, sadness punctuated by a loud sniff.

“I’m sorry, Nagisa,” Makoto says miserably. He would never change his plans for the world, wants nothing more than to go home to Haruka every day, but that does not take away the fact that he is the one to have made Nagisa sad. Haruka rests his hand on the curve of his back and Makoto draws strength from the contact, straightening up a little bit. “But on the bright side, you and Rei will have the whole place to yourselves. Doesn’t that count for something?”

“Makoto-senpai.” Rei’s voice is tight, tension holding around his mouth. “Please do not give him any id – ” 

“You’re right!” The sadness in Nagisa’s eyes has given way for something else, a glimmer that is so bright, so rich with intent that Makoto finds he has to look away. “Rei-chan, we don’t share walls anymore!”

“Nagisa-kun, that is not entirely true.”

“Poor Rei,” Rin sniggers. 

“I don’t know about that,” Sousuke says. He taps his finger against the tabletop, casts his gaze towards their friends; Nagisa is all but sitting in Rei’s lap, talking quickly as he gesticulates wildly, and the look on Rei’s face suggests that he has forgotten they’re not alone, tucked away safely in the privacy of their home. “He seems to be enjoying it. But Nagisa,” he adds, raising his voice a touch in order to be heard over the chatter, “Remember you still have neighbours.”

“That’s never been a problem before!” he says cheerfully, sets his empty cup down and butts his head against Rei’s chest. He leaves it there, breathing in deeply as a serene smile slips across his face and Makoto feels his heart lurch. He knows that look; it comes out right before Nagisa says something incredibly ridiculous but equally heartfelt. It is the same look that has sent Makoto ducking in embarrassment, hiding from prying eyes, no less than six times in the three years that they have been friends and the whirling feeling in his gut only intensifies when he sees that the look is directed at Haruka.

“Oh no,” he says under his breath, rubbing the hem of his scarf between his fingers in a nervous gesture. But he never gets the chance to hear what Nagisa is going to say; his attention shifts as Rin reaches across the table and pats him hard on the back. “Ah, ow…Rin?” 

“Makoto.” He bites his lip, eyes looking suspiciously glassy, and Makoto chances a look at Sousuke. Who, to his credit, looks as if he is putting on a much braver face than Rin, though there is slight wobble to his lower lip that has Makoto worried. But before he can say anything, Rin swipes one hand across his eyes; when he pulls it away, grim determination has set in his brow. “Seriously…we’re really happy for you guys. Sorry that we never told you about, you know, you two being soulmates and all.”

“We would have told you all of this earlier,” Sousuke chimes in, “But you and Haru were too  _busy_ and we never got the chance.”

“Ah,” Makoto ducks his head, vaguely wondering how many times a person can blush before red cheeks is considered to be their new normal. “Thank you. And, well…it’s okay. It all ended up working out in the end, right?” He scratches the side of his chin slowly, smile softening into something more gentle as his eyes land on Haruka. “Don’t worry about it anymore. We’re good. I’m…really, really happy.”

“I’m glad.” Rin sounds like he is choked up again but Sousuke hooks an arm over his shoulder, whispering something in his ear, and he immediately sobers up, clearing his throat. A flush spreads prettily along his cheeks, curling around to the back of his neck, where Sousuke presses a chaste kiss and Makoto looks away, suddenly enthralled with something else, anything else, so long as it is not the way that Rin seems to melt against Sousuke’s side, thumb rubbing idle circles against the starburst housed on his shoulder.

He takes a sip of his water to cool down, gaze landing on Haruka once again, and is surprised to see that he is listening attentively to whatever Nagisa is saying, though there is a pinch between his eyebrows. Makoto chalks it up to what he likes to call The Nagisa Factor; there are times when Nagisa leaves even Rei overwhelmed, say nothing of the people who are  _not_  used to how talkative and lively he can be. But otherwise, Haruka seems unbothered. His eyes are glittering, twin pools of blue that Makoto would not mind drowning in, and he passes the back of his hand across his mouth, leaning a little bit closer as he tries to hear what Nagisa is saying. There is a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, something unsettling in the way those magenta eyes twinkle, but Haruka is doing that little half-smile that Makoto would move mountains for, so he brushes his worries aside and tunes in just in time to hear –

“ – and since he’s going to live with you now, there are three Very Important Things that you need to know, Haru-chan! Are you ready?” 

Oh, he was wrong. So, so wrong. Makoto grits his teeth, resisting the urge to bang his head against the table. He has no clue what Nagisa is about to tell Haru but he has a feeling that he is not going to like it one bit.

“Mmm.”

“Number one!” Nagisa says with a flourish, arm outstretched as if he is charging into battle, “Mako-chan snores. Like really loudly. Sometimes I can hear him all the way in my room and that’s even when the doors are closed!”

The blood drains from Makoto’s face and then returns tenfold, burning so brightly that he swears he can feel steam radiating from the tips of his ears. This was exactly the kind of thing he had been dreading. “Nagisa! I don’t snore!” 

“You do,” Haruka cuts in smoothly, nods his head just once, but with enough force that his fringe slides over his eyes. Makoto reaches out automatically, smooths the hair off of his forehead, hand carrying down to cradle Haruka’s cheek. He leans into the touch, pecks a kiss against Makoto’s thumb and adds, “But it’s more of a snuffling sound. It’s cute.”

“Ah, Haru-chan. Now you’re being embarrassing.”

Haruka hums and offers him a noncommittal shrug before indicating that Nagisa move on.

“Thing Number Two!” Nagisa nearly shoots to his feet in his excitement but a firm hand around his bicep, courtesy of Rei, keeps him in place. “Mako-chan is allergic to apples. But his favourite fruit is an apple, so this creates problems. Always.”

Haruka nods sagely; the motion causes Makoto’s hand to drop to his lap and Haruka is quick to take hold of it, thumb resting against his pulse point. “I know. He always forgets. I had to steal one straight out of his hands just last week.”

“But they’re so delicious,” Makoto whines, pushing his lower lip out in a childish pout. 

“They make your mouth itchy. And swollen.” Haruka mashes his lips together. “Stop eating them.”

Sousuke huffs out a laugh, shaking his head, and Rei looks positively horrified. “Makoto-senpai…why would you…?” But he is unable to finish, words getting lost in a theatrical shudder.

Makoto just drops his head to the table, resigned to his fate and anxious for Nagisa to carry on and finish so that he can die in peace. Which proves to be a mistake because – 

“And finally, Number Three!” Nagisa wiggles his fingers, an easy grin stretching across his face. “Mako-chan still sleeps with a nightlight.”

He shoots straight up, eyes wide with panic as he yelps, “Nagisa!”

“It’s true!” Nagisa claps his hands gleefully. “Shaped like an orca and everything.”

“It was one time! And that was only because you tricked me into watching a scary movie before we went to sleep!”

Rin coughs out a laugh, clearly trying to hold back in the name of friendship. But it is a losing battle, Makoto can already tell, and so he is hardly surprised when Rin suddenly guffaws, slapping one hand against the table. “Are you serious?”

Makoto nibbles on his lip, shrinking into himself. It really had been just the one time – Nagisa had insisted on watching a scary movie one night, something just as gory as it was suspenseful, and although Makoto had spent the majority of the night with his face hidden behind a pillow, he’d also seen enough to warrant breaking out his old nightlight. It had been a small sliver of comfort; he’d woken up three times in the middle of the night, palms sweating, heart racing, and the small halo of light next to his bed had been a welcome sight. Each time, he’d been lulled back to sleep under the watchful eye of the smiling orca, a sense of nostalgia tugging gently on his heart in a far more welcoming way than the harsh yanks of his fear, and it was a little ridiculous, how safe that made him feel. The plan had been to pack it up the next day and forget all about it but Nagisa, having come into his room in the morning to wake him up, just would not let him do so. Even now, years later, sitting at a table with all of their friends. He whines, low in his throat, and the grip on his hand tightens.

“Hey,” Haruka glares, eyes cold as ice. “Stop laughing.” 

“I’m sorry,” Rin manages to get out, tucking some hair behind his ear. It falls straight back, dislodged by the continuous shaking of his shoulders. “But that’s just – ”

“Rin,” Sousuke warns, and there must be something in his voice because Rin falls silent, rubbing one finger under his nose as he composes himself. 

The same cannot be said for Nagisa. He is still laughing, whole body shaking as he clutches his stomach. Rei chances one look at Haruka and sighs, brushing his thumb over the golden triangle stark against Nagisa’s cheek. “Nagisa-kun, really. It is not that funny.”

It takes a while for Nagisa to settle, and then a little longer still as the waitress brings by their food. But once she leaves, and the others are preoccupied with eating, Haruka finally turns his attentions to Makoto. The thumb against his pulse point pushes down lightly and a rush of the heat surges through him, each thump of his heart spreading it further down through his veins, warming him up from the inside out. Makoto smiles faintly at him, embarrassment edging away slowly but still there, still burning his cheeks, still making it hard to breathe, and the look that Haruka gives him is so loving that his heart almost gives out, stuttering rapidly in his chest. He does not think that he can ever get used to being the recipient of one of those looks, never thought that he would  _ever_  be lucky enough to have someone show him such naked affection.

“It’s okay,” Haruka says softly. “It doesn’t matter.”

There is a beat of silence and then Makoto smiles, relief evident in the sparkling green of his eyes. He still has trouble understanding how Haruka is able to make everything okay so effortlessly, does not think that he will ever tire of trying to figure it out. “Ah, Haru-chan. I love you.” The words spill out of him with no thought, a rush of emotion that has nowhere else to go but up, up, out into the world, demanding to be heard. 

He turns away, but not so fast that Makoto misses the splash of colour painting his cheeks. “How many times…?”

“What?” 

Nagisa rocks forward, breaking the mood and jarring them back into reality. Makoto sheepishly scratches the back of his head, all at once remembering that they are not alone, that their friends are right there and can hear everything. He notes the quirk of Rin’s brow, the self-satisfied look on his face, and bites back a groan. They definitely heard everything.

Growing impatient, Nagisa tilts his head inquisitively and looks between Makoto and Haruka, nose bunched up as he repeats, “How many times what, Haru-chan?”

He does not answer, nor does he need to; Makoto knows what he was going to say.  _How many times are you going to tell me the same thing?_  But he pays it no mind. He knows that Haruka is just embarrassed, especially since he blurted it out in front of their friends. But how could he have helped it? Haruka was…he was everything. Never in his life did Makoto think that he would be so fortunate to have someone like Haruka for a soulmate. Never in his life did he think that they would be able to be together, that he would be able to stand by Haru’s side and shoulder whatever came their way as a team, a unit, two people always there for each other. And never in his life did he  _ever_  think that they would all six be sitting here, sharing a meal together on a cold winter’s morning, contented and in love and just  _happy_.

His heart feels like it is about to burst. It is just filled with so much love for the man sitting next to him, so much gratitude and amazement and awe, that the pressure is almost painful. His chest aches with the overflow of feeling, crushed beneath all of his emotions, but there is nothing that he can do. Nothing that he can say that would properly be able to convey everything that he feels in this moment, everything that he has felt since meeting Haruka all those months ago. 

So he does the only thing that he can think of and pitches forward, noses along the edge of Haruka’s jaw, planting kisses as he goes. He can hear the chatter pick back up and feels a surge of appreciation towards their friends, thankful that they have turned away in order to give them some semblance of privacy in the middle of this crowded café.

“I love you, Haru,” he says again, softer, more quietly, the words spoken into his neck. He presses his lips against the vibrant blue jellyfish and holds them there, trying to make Haruka understand. He loves him. He  _loves_  him. He does not think that he could ever love anyone more.

“I know,” comes the faint reply. Makoto can feel the vibration of his words, tremors moving in time with his shuddering breaths. “I love you too, Makoto.”

He pulls back and beams; the light comes in through the high windows, sunshine dancing over Haruka’s mark, and the jellyfish sparkles. Shines so brightly that he almost wants to look away. Instead, he reaches out, brushes his thumb over the skin so lightly that Haruka cannot help but shiver. He wants to do it again, goes in for a second time, but fingers slip in between his own, holding on tightly despite how gentle the touch is.

“Makoto,” Haruka murmurs, and his eyes are so blue. Swirling with so much emotion, glassy with thoughts, fears, feelings; a love too strong to put into words, felt too deeply to even try. And Makoto just melts, moves closer to press a kiss against his temple.

“I know, Haru,” he says. Whispers the words against a steady heartbeat. “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a love/hate relationship with this chapter, honestly. I keep on thinking that it dives into the action a little bit too quickly and have to constantly remind myself that I had planned this whole story as a one-shot so although it feels sudden, the drama really only comes up about two thirds of the way through. It usually makes me feel a little better, but sometimes not, so I am sorry if you thought the same thing because trust me, I get it.
> 
> And funny story: the final scene, the last, last, last bit, was so tough for me. At first I was having trouble with the amount of characters in the scene – nobody was cooperating with me, it was so difficult, especially when everyone was talking because I kept on feeling like they all wanted to talk over each other. And then Makoto kept fighting me, which was a little bit weird because he has never done that for any other part of the fic. So I kept on getting frustrated and writing and rewriting and changing things around in the hopes that everyone would be more manageable and I swear, I ended up with like, four different scenes.
> 
> Guess which one made the cut, though (hint: the very first one). I honestly don’t even know what to say about myself sometimes. But it really was not too bad, because now I have about four or five deleted scenes, which I am actually really grateful for because personally, I like seeing how things worked out for them. I'm in pretty deep in my own Soulmates!AU (pls someone stop me).
> 
> I'm a little bit bummed out that I never got a chance to write out the boys letting their mothers know everything worked out. They were both so worried! And to be honest, I think that Haru's parents are so great, I kind of wanted to write them a little bit more. Maybe actually in person or something. I don't know, maybe one day.
> 
> Also – I struggle with endings. I do, all of the time. Sadly, conclusions do not come easy to me. 
> 
> But I hope that some piece of this (any piece of this, please) was at least worth the wait.
> 
> Comments, questions, concerns and criticisms are always welcomed! And thank you for reading!


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